By Your Side
by Comfortably.Discombobulated
Summary: Of course John has met Sherlock before that fateful day at St.Bart's. John is just surprised Sherlock never remembered, it isn't like he attempted to be very subtle about it. AU. Selkie!John-verse. May become Johnlock.
1. John

Inspired by this post: .com/post/16799815561/demidevieevee-the-eternity-clock-song

_JOHN_

_ John has met Sherlock before the fateful meeting at St. Bart's and he certainly knew about Sherlock Holmes well before Mike Stamford ever introduced the two at that place. John had met Sherlock on a few occasions, not that Sherlock really knew it at the time and whether he clued in on it when they first met in person was still a mystery to John. The self diagnosed sociopath never really left any indications or hints that he knew and it is not like John was really hiding it. It was obvious in his name alone but he assumed perhaps Sherlock had not remembered him at all. This would bother John if he had not known Sherlock better, it hurt a little when he thought about it but John would never let the man know it. If Sherlock didn't remember him than there is really nothing he can do to help comfort him about that fact._

There are few things in this world that Sherlock was not aware of. The supernatural, presumably non-existent to the detective, was one of these things. The supernatural was not greatly ingrained in common life, there were some ghosts or hauntings here and there and sure some creatures considered 'mythical' or part of simple 'fairy tales' did exist but they were not a huge populace nor did they have a huge influence on human life or mortals. In fact, most of these creatures usually choose to hide away from civilization and live in their own created communities. Selkies were among such species which decided to not bother with humans.

Selkies were a particularly rare specimen to come by in these modern days. Rarely ever do they abandon their pelts and become human and when spotted by a mortal they are brushed off as a common seal or which ever creature they were currently disguised as. Commonly seen as seals due to their natural habitat in the sea and only ever really spotted off the coasts of Ireland and Scotland, they are widely believed to originate from the souls of people that have drowned. A selkie can never truly be confirmed as one unless seen stripping of their pelt or putting the pelt back on. They can become any creature or mammal they wish by simply wearing the creature's pelt but are recognized as generally beautiful human beings. John Hamish Watson was no exception, of course not nearly as beautiful as most males, he certainly could attract women if he desired.

John is a Selkie and he took pride in his heritage but he did not have the best upbringing and has lived most of his life hiding among humans, his own pelt hidden away and rarely ever used. It was his upbringing which he been when he met one Sherlock Holmes.

A young Selkie wearing the pelt of a hedgehog found himself lost, confused, cold and scared. He had fled the sea upon his father's wishes when poachers had caught his mother. He was separated from his sister upon shedding their seal pelts and rushing from the sea. He was only but a year old and on his own, his older sister no where in sight or even detectable in scent or sound. He now had no family and his home was no longer safe, he had not even a name for himself. He wandered the forests, he traveled but never roaming too far. After a full year he returned to the beach, shedding his the hedgehog pelt and searching for his old skein. His pelt. Upon finding it he gave it a good look over. It was worn out from the elements but would wear well to his familiar form. Small from his younger age and never stretched out as he grew over the year. Slipping it on he felt the merge and his human skin shifted. His form morphing, tangling and twisting as he wriggled and writhed in the sand until finally he settled and remained still.

He immediately fled to the sea. Submerging into the familiar cold waters and swimming far from the shoreline. He remained among the cold water, exploring the sea's floor once again as he had once done but a year ago. Skimming one flipper over the loose, heavy wet sand below before spiraling and propelling himself upwards. His smooth gray head broke past the surface and with human-like blue eyes he peered back to the shore. He waited for the appearance of his returning sister. He wished to see her again and remained there, bobbing with the weak cold waves that attempt to push his slim body along the waters and under into the darkness it harvests. John remains adamant in his hopes for his sister, his father and mother no longer dwelling in these waves. He could not smell any lingering of their scent which would indicate they have been here recently. He knew what had happened to them and he would not let their sacrifice for his survival to end in vain. His sister had to be alive. She needed to return to the water eventually and he would be here for her.

They were all they had left of family now. They never really belonged to a colony and only had each other for comfort and protection and he would not abandon this post until his sister returned.

As it was, a young Sherlock Holmes was currently residing not too far away from that very beach but a whole year after the lone Selkie's decision to remain there waiting. He was visiting family, his Aunt and Grandma on his mother's side in Ireland for his birthday which is why they were spending it here. No one in his hometown would have visited him anyways, none of those kids liked him mostly because he said the wrong things all the time and was smarter than them. Not a lot of his family really cared for his birthday either, mostly the women fawned over him on the day but for the most part there is rarely ever a party and he is left to his own devices for the day. He receives gifts but he hardly ever uses them, most people bought him useless or mundane things like toys or train sets. He never said anything to their face to afford a smack from mother but later he normally dumped out the toys or locked them away in Mycroft's closet to topple onto him when he opened it.

Sherlock never went to the beach on that small vacation so it would seem that he and this nameless lonely Selkie would never meet but that was not the case. In fact, it was this year that the Selkie had decided to leave the waters in search of his sister. Shedding of his skein and finding the old skein, he took the form of the small hedgehog and once again ventured into the wilderness he had never dared to enter since those two years ago. He scurried along the forest floor, it was strange for him to be on four small feet and moving on solid ground. He already missed the feel of water as he pushed himself through it, against the current and the sense of weightlessness that came with it. His fluid motions below the surface and the feel of the flippers along the sand at the bottom. Despite his year of traveling the wild forests it all felt foreign to him once again. Trees towering over him and a mass of scents which flooded his nose and noises that startled his sensitive ears.

He roamed the forest for what felt like days. He had survived off bugs, wild berries and plants and slept in any empty burrows he could find. Things were still just as scary, especially at night, it was cold and he had lost his way back by getting himself tumbling down some sloped areas and having to try and find his way out of the ditches and natural made trenches. His scent was no longer ingrained in the dirt and he could not follow it him, he regretted this decision and felt homesick for the sea once again. Ignoring all this He thought of his sister and continued to trudge along through the wilderness.

He was alone, it was growing dark once again but he had to keep going. He had acquired a limp after being attacked by an owl, an attack he barely survived and could only now limp away in a hurry as hopes the nocturnal bird of prey would not find him again crossed his mind. He stopped when smelling something. It was such an unfamiliar scent that he had low hopes of it being anything good, he could hear a quiet noise of voices. It was unfamiliar to his ears, nothing near the trills or cries which would was spoken by his own native tongue. Looking for any physical signs of the source, he could spot nothing among the tall trees and thick bushes which surrounded him. Tiny nose in the air he sniffed for a better indication of where the scent was coming from. It was a mixture of things, all foreign to him. With trepidation he followed after the scent blindly, limping but holding back any pain the tiny injury would cause with this movement. He continued to march on bravely, a hint of fear at the unknown which he would seemingly face with this unknown scent and sound. He knew it did not belong to the forest, as foreign of a place as it was, he could recognize would should belong and what was not a native. Hunters. Humans. He only ever heard tales of them from his parents, they hunted and destroyed with no care for what was in their path. Climbing under a bush and breaking through the leaves on the other side found him in a strange place. Trees were gone, it was a clear space of grass and up ahead was a bright arrangements of flowers and other plants. Beyond it stood a tall and giant structure unfamiliar to him. He did not recognize what the structure was for but saw sources of light seeping beyond clear panels. All of the smells and all of the noise originated from that structure. He could vaguely see humans, just outside the structure and entering it as it grew darker outside.

He was so entranced with this strange sight that He had not noticed the approaching mammal until it towered above him. He looked up with fear at the creature, fur gray with black stripes and white belly. Ears pointed back and a low mewl rising in its throat as it approached him slowly. He only had enough time to curl into a defensive ball before the cat pounced at his small body.

Sherlock had just passed the garden when he saw it happen. Smithers, Aunt Helena's cat, had pounced a rather small and defenseless hedgehog. It released a tiny cry, curled in on itself in a method of defense and remained motionless as the cat started to paw at the soft spines and nudge the body around with his nose. He watched silently for only a few moments before deciding to intervene the moment he noticed the spines began to tense and show potential to hurt. He knew if he watched the cat get hurt then Aunt Helena would be angry and thus his mother would be disappointed. His Aunt, mother, Mycroft and Uncle Harris were all out on the Terrance enjoying a civilized conversation the 7-year-old had no interest in and so Mycroft shooed him off to go play in the garden.

Approaching the scene, he scared off the cat with some mild gestures and hissing commands. Smithers gave one look back at the quivering hedgehog before it ran off and left Sherlock behind in the darker edges of Aunt Helena's backyard. He crouched, hugging his knees and watching the hedgehog with the intention of learning every detail possible of the creature.

It remained curled, aware of the one that had scared off the cat and taking it as another potential threat. The cat was bigger than the little creature so this being could quite easily eat it. _Smart for something so small. Cautious. _

After a moment of silence it began to slowly unfurl its body and scurried to the bushes. Sherlock frowned but didn't move, he had hoped it would not have ran off but figured it would to return to its safe home. He remained perfectly still when he saw the hedgehog's little head poke out from under the bushes, a pair of human-like blue eyes staring back at him with some scrutiny and wariness. The small boy remained still until it slowly crawled out of bushes and towards him. He took notice of its small limp and saw the tiny injury on its back right leg.

_ A skirmish, going to say owl by the looks of the injury. Brave and likely quick-witted for a hedgehog if it managed to escape a bird of prey. _Sherlock watched until it stopped just a few feet from him. Its eyes never leaving him as he then moved very slowly. One hand held out and moving towards it with no small or quick motions. It remained glued to the spot until he was closer and then it moved closer. He felt its cold nose press against his palm as it sniffed him, edging ever so closely to the boy. It fearlessly climbed onto his hand, nose pressed to the skin and taking in the entire appendage and the feel for it. Sherlock could feel the tiny claws against his skin but none caused injury.

The Selkie found it odd that this small human had such a comforting scent. It smelt vaguely of the forest but with other foreign scents mingled into it. He was smaller than poachers He had seen but still much larger than himself so he needed to be careful. This being had scared off the cat, it had to be far more dangerous than it since humans managed to scare mother and father on various occasions. He smelt no sense of danger or threat from this human and so climbed up onto the offered limb, it was no paw or flipper and its claws were not sharp. No talons, just long rounded spines. He took it all in as he was lifted from the ground. He hardly took notice of the height as the human continued to study him. Finally finished with analyzing his scent and taking into account the feeling of his flesh under him, soft and warm and gave way slightly to the weight on his paws. Kind of like sand but far more solid and warmer. He felt a pang of homesickness once more at the thought but decided to push it back as He looked up at the human boy. His other hand reached up and held close to the other to give him more room.

Sherlock held the hedgehog gingerly, accommodating to his injured leg. He looked over to where the others were, still chattering away and unaware of the young boy standing so far away and dangerously close to the wilderness beyond the property. He looked back down at the hedgehog and into those blue eyes which stared back.

"It was my birthday today," Sherlock started to talk. He was unsure why, he knew it was irrational as the hedgehog probably couldn't understand a word he said. Sherlock knew it was illogical to hope it could but he felt the urge to share, to speak to it. "I turned seven but no one really cares. That's why my Mummy took my brother and I here, because none of the other kids would come over anyways and even a lot of my family would be bothered to stop by. Not a lot of people like me."

"I don't mind really, they don't like me and I don't like them so it is fine. Really." Sherlock continued, standing in place and keeping his eyes locked on the hedgehog. He went quiet as if willing the creature to speak, somehow break the laws of reality and logic and talk to Sherlock in a manner no other could. To comfort him or possibly invite him back to his own family, live in the wilderness with him. Silence followed and Sherlock almost felt disappointed, he stopped all thoughts when the creature released a strange coo. A squeak mixing with a whispered trill. He moved closer to him and down his palm, Sherlock brought it closer and planting its small front feet on his chin had brought its own small nose to tap against Sherlock's.

"Do you want to be m-my friend?" He asked the creature with astonishment and confusion. Had the hedgehog understood him and offering companionship? Does it sympathize with him and offer comfort? It released a louder trilled squeak of confirmation while backing up and Sherlock let a small smile pull at his lips, one which he had never used in a long time. He quickly composed himself though and looked down at the animal. "Good. Good. That's good but you're going to need a name, aren't you?"

Sherlock took in the hedgehog's appearance, sitting down in the grass and thinking it over. The hedgehog simply looked up at him expectantly and patiently, awaiting his name.  
>"Sebastian?"<p>

It let out a low harsh mewl and threatened to roll back into a ball.  
>"Didn't think so. Maximilian?"<p>

Another protesting noise and Sherlock held the hedgehog gingerly around the belly and lifted it up to examine it further.

"How about John?"

There was a pause between the two before the hedgehog released a repetitive cheering whoop, squirming enthusiastically in his hold but not enough to endanger being dropped by Sherlock. He again smiled and lowered it to hold it in two hands once again and cradle the injured leg. "John it is. Hello John, I'm Sherlock Holmes."

John was surprised when the boy started to talk to him. He understood him perfectly. His ow strange language translating perfectly to his ears and it seemed this boy was just like him. He was lonely. He was alone and needed companionship much like how John wished to find his sister once again. He wasn't sure what a 'birthday' was but it seemed to be something to celebrate yet the boy seemed saddened that not even his own family wanted to celebrate. John was displeased by this neglect, a family was meant to stay close and cherish each other to the end. This human boy had no friends, no companions while John knew most humans tended to pack together naturally. He sympathized with the boy, he had no one just like how John had no one and so he comforted him. He brought his nose affectionately to the boy and he took it is offering of companionship, John made no protests and certainly would enjoy it. This human was comforting to him. The boy seemed happy with it too and decided he needed a name. He rather liked the name 'John'. It was simplistic and gave him a purpose. He was no longer the orphan Selkie lost but 'John' the companion of Sherlock Holmes. He had something besides his lost and missing sister to cling to as purpose. He was a tad saddened that his true connection was now to land but he could go back and gather his pelt for Sherlock to guard from other humans later.

"Sheeeerloooock!" Sherlock whipped his head around to look over his shoulder. Mycroft was already inside, Aunt Helena heading inside with Uncle Harris and his mother standing at the open door expectantly. "Come back inside, it's getting dark out!"

"Coming Mummy!" Sherlock called loudly before looking back at John. "You need to be quiet okay? Mummy wouldn't let me bring you inside if she knew you're from the forest so you need to be quite and still, got it?" John gave him a nod and small squeak before he slipped the hedgehog into his coat pocket and rushed for the house, being careful not to jostle John. He slowed down at the door, his mother raising a brow expectantly.

"Nothing hidden in your short pockets this time is there?" She asked suspiciously and John held back a slight purr of confusion. He could understand Sherlock perfectly yet this woman, his mother, she could not understand a single word she had just said. All just a mash of noise hissing in his ears like static.

"I have nothing Mummy." Sherlock responded while showing his empty hands, small marks of dirt on his palms from John's claws but nothing else and she let it go as him playing in the dirt instead of blaming a small hedgehog named John sitting comfortably in the seven-year-old's pocket. Mycroft stood just beyond the door and raised a brow at the markings on his brother's hands and seeing the tiniest of bulge in his left coat pocket. He remained quiet as Sherlock was allowed into the house and he hurried off to the guest bedroom he was staying in. His mother insisted they were about to have dinner but he told her rather bluntly that he was not hungry and had something to read up on. She gave a defeated sigh, shaking her head and resigning to the fact that Sherlock was a very strange child and ordered Mycroft to make sure Sherlock ate at least _something_ that night.

Sherlock removed John from his pocket and put him down on his desk gently, the small creature now looking around curiously and taking in the room. John was comfortable, despite the foreign scents which flooded his nostrils and the new sights mainly because Sherlock was there and it was warm here inside the giant structure.  
>"I need to work on that injury John. No friend of mine is going to limp around." Sherlock informed the hedgehog, scooping up the small body. John's claws curled carefully around Sherlock's finger tips and watched where the carried him until he was placed on a bathroom sink. Sherlock hurried from the room before returning with a thick book and flipped through a lot of pages. John remained mostly where he had been placed out of fear of getting into something which would cause him misfortune or possibly upset Sherlock. Soon enough Sherlock left the open book near John and nudged him onto his side before gently rolling him onto his back.<p>

John knew being tipped onto his back in this form should be a red flag and reason to panic as Sherlock made sure he didn't roll back onto his feet. He remained still but sent a few confused squeaks to Sherlock as a meaning of questioning and the human looked into his blue eyes once again.

"I'm patching up your leg. Don't move too much, alright?" Sherlock hoped the hedgehog could understand everything he said and had not made a lucky guess outside in the yard. John went quiet and relaxed, eyes still locked onto Sherlock but with utter trust and comfort that Sherlock almost felt overwhelmed by it. No one had ever looked at him with such trust before and for a moment he feared he may not do the right thing and ruin that trust. Booting all of those thoughts out of hid mind, he began to work on the small injury on John's leg. He wasn't a vet and John was very small so he had to use his own magnifying glass and the veterinary text book he stole from Mycroft's girlfriend's book bag the last time she was at their house. She wanted to work and help animals and was working on it now.

John remained quiet and as still as possible as Sherlock worked on the injury from the owl. It was odd to be medically treated by a human, they did things so differently. His mother would nuzzle his head, whisper a few words and kiss the injury before submerging it into water and it would heal. She was an excellent healer. Sherlock cleaned the wound gingerly to prevent as much pain as possible, using a disinfectant and then wrapping up the leg in material before finishing it up. John cautiously tested his leg, holding back a wince at putting too much weight on it but it seemed to feel much better. If he could get it into some water it would be perfectly better.

"And _this_ is the planet Jupiter." Sherlock pointed to the picture on the giant map of the solar system he had brought from home. "One day I might do a study to discover life on that planet or if plants could be possible on it." He stated enthusiastically and John marveled in awe at the images with a small whistle, clearly impressed and Sherlock simply glowed at the attention. A knock at Sherlock's bedroom and the boy suddenly ushered John gently into the desk drawer, whispering him to be quiet before closing the drawer and facing towards the door as it opened and in stepped Mycroft with a plate of food from dinner. A little of everything being served tonight.

"Alright, where is it?" Mycroft asked as he closed the door and approached Sherlock to place the plate down on the desk for his little brother.

"Where's what?" Sherlock had answered innocently, doing his best to seem clueless as to what Mycroft was speaking of and that unfortunately was what gave him away as he normally always knew Mycroft was looking for and never seemed affronted when called out on it. He was hiding something and John coward to the back of the drawer hearing the unfamiliar voice.

"Come now Sherlock, you don't honestly believe I wouldn't see? Whatever it is you brought in from inside. What and where is it?" John tensed, he understood a word in that sentence and it was _Sherlock_. He continued to listen in hopes of understanding other words. Sherlock looked at his brother defiantly but Mycroft simply raised a brow, crossing his arms and within minutes his younger brother caved knowing he would not give up. Sherlock opened the door and looked inside seeing John at the far back. Carefully scooping up the hedgehog, he held John carefully in his hands and the Selkie looked up at Mycroft with some fear and wariness.

"His name is John and I found him being attacked by Smithers. He won't hurt anyone and I'm keeping him." Sherlock stated factually and Mycroft raised a brow at his younger brother before taking in the hedgehog. Unnatural, human-like blue eyes stared back at him and John wiggled his nose as he took in the scent of this new being, Mycroft.

"Oh, you are keeping him? Indefinitely?" Mycroft asked with a hint of skepticism that John did not appreciate, nor did Sherlock, whom glared in response as John released an angry growl that rolled in his throat. Mycroft was not surprised or affected by this.

"Yes, John is my friend and I'm going to take him home with us." Sherlock stated while holding the hedgehog closer to himself to prevent Mycroft from taking him away. John looked up at Sherlock, purred and nudged at his neck with his nose. "Don't tell Mummy."

"No, of course not. Make sure it doesn't have rabies and do feed it regularly, the thing needs to eat on a daily basis no matter what you may think." Mycroft motioned with his head towards the plate of food before leaving the room. "Be careful with it Sherlock, it is small and not some toy or test subject."

"I know that Mycroft! John is a friend, not some pet!" Sherlock responded haughtily and Mycroft only chuckled as he left the room. Sherlock waited for a minute before putting John back down on the desk, he immediately went to investigate the brought in food and took an immediate liking towards the dessert pastry. A crepe with jam in the middle and some real blueberries poking from the open ends. John took to the berries like he hadn't eaten in years, which wasn't true as John made sure to at least eat one meal every day much like his mother taught him and his sister insisted upon this routine. Jon was struck again by the thought of his family and the sea. He could vaguely see it from the view of the window but that is all.

He looked up at Sherlock but was startled to find those icey blue eyes were already locked on him. Silently he stared and John momentarily forgot his previous thought of somehow luring Sherlock to the sea and convince him to take the pelt to protect it for John while he stayed with Sherlock. He assumed tomorrow would be no problem, perhaps early in the morning before his mother was awake and could stop him. Mycroft would certainly understand if he ever saw it, or so John hoped he would and not throw it out to upset Sherlock. His ankles would receive a thorough biting if he attempted to upset Sherlock on John's watch.

As It turned out, fate was out to get John as he awoke the next morning from his comfortable slumber on the pillow next to Sherlock's head, to find himself encased by darkness. He squirmed in a panic for mere seconds before light soon flooded his sight. It dimmed down as his eyes adjusted and he realized he was in a pocket. Not one like Sherlock's coat, the material was rougher ad Jon's claws would snag the threads before he broke loose of them. Looking up towards the light and finding a familiar icey blue eye looking down at him. A hand reached in, scooped him up and took him out of his confined resting place. John took in his surroundings immediately, a small room with cushioned seats on either side of him. Mycroft sat across from them but they were the only ones in the room, John smelt no one else. Looking around he noticed the window and the scenery flashing past it at an alarming rate.

"John?" Sherlock questioned as the hedgehog hurried from his hand, gracelessly falling to the seat and on his back. He squirmed wildly before getting back to his feet and hurried over to cling to the small ledge at the window and just barely manage to hold himself up to look. He felt despair and frantic seeing the trees fly past, the fields and off in the distance the sea. They were growing more distant from the sea and he could feel it as his own hidden pelt was growing more distant and distant. His proper skein was too far for comfort.

"Perhaps he is having second thoughts Sherlock." Mycroft spoke while hearing the rather panicked squeaks rising from the small creature and filling the room. "Did you even let the little guy know his new 'home' would be so far away from where you found him?"

"I didn't think it was an issue at the time." Sherlock replied while scooping up John into his hands, running his thumb over his small stomach in a comforting manner. John calmed down when seeing the blue eyes stare into his own. John stopped because Sherlock's scent, which vaguely smelt of the forest, filled his nostrils and calmed him. It was oddly comforting to find a scent of another strange species which had the same comforting ability as his mother's own presence but she was gone now and so he would cling to this. It was selfish of John he knew it, to try and replace his lost family with the lonely human boy but at the time he didn't care.

"Are you alright John?" Sherlock asked quietly as Mycroft frowned. Sherlock was showing a rather sudden attachment to the hedgehog named John and he knew it would make things all that harder when the thing passed away. Hedgehogs didn't have notoriously long life spans, especially a wild one made pet. He also knew mother would find out eventually and force Sherlock to return it to the wild. His brother will be devastated, undoubtedly stop talking again and lock himself in his room. He was quite dramatic. John let the tone soothe away his anxieties and let out small, sluggish squeaks and trills to assure his friend he had calmed down.

"My real home and your new home is a lot farther away than Aunt Helena's home, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

Mycroft should be concerned for his brother, talking to a hedgehog like a regular individual and treated it even better than his does to any other human. He really should but he keeps his mouth shut as the hedgehog responds to Sherlock. He conveyed his emotions and thoughts in return using different tones and it seemed like John the hedgehog was more than meets the eye and far more intelligent than any wild hedgehog Mycroft knew of.

As it turned out, John stopped missing the sea more and more time spent in his new home. Sherlock included him in all of his experiments and John learned more and more of human life. John learned more and more of humans and less of his own heritage and kind, he was beginning to understand the language better could still only understand and yet only understand few words spoken by Mycroft. Sherlock remained perfectly oblivious of the true nature of John's identity as a Selkie and Mycroft humoured his brother's obsession and friendship to the hedgehog.

"John, I need you to sneak downstairs and fetch me an egg from the kitchen." Sherlock whispered while slipping the tiny orange satchel across John's chest. It was something Sherlock got John so he could sneak around the Holmes manor, undetected, and gather items for Sherlock without him having to leave his bedroom and get caught by his parents or staff. The staff knew of John, recognized the hedgehog and have seen it on many occasions but were paid off by Mycroft to leave the matter alone and not mention a word of it.

John made his climb down the stairs, careful of his leg. Despite Sherlock's medical administrations the muscle which had been torn was still sore and caused him to limp in times of sadness or when he is not distracted by Sherlock's antics. He tumbled off the last step and rolled on the tiled floor, regaining his composure John entered the modern kitchen. The only light from the overhang of the stove. He managed the fridge open and climbed in to the egg-holder within the fridge door. Slipping one into the satchel, John carefully made his way down and closed the fridge door before hurrying for the stairs once more. He quietly and carefully climbed up the long flight of stairs and made his way down the hallway.

"A late-night experiment I assume?" John paused hearing the familiar tone and looked to see Mycroft standing at his bedroom doorway, arms crossed and a brow raised. John tilted his head, he only caught the word 'experiment' as it has been uttered by Sherlock so much. John assumed Mycroft was questioning his motives and linking it to an experiment so he released an affirming grunt and nodded his head before beginning to continue on his way, the egg in the small satchel dragging behind him. Making it back into Sherlock's room, the hedgehog used the cloth hanging from the desk to climb his way and into Sherlock's view where he took the egg and thanked John by rubbing his thumb on his chest in a circular motion. John purred in contentment at the contact and remained on the sidelines as Sherlock continued on with his strange experiment.

As it would seem though, Sherlock's parents had discovered the hedgehog. It was purely by accident. Sherlock was at school, John left at home to wallow in his moment of loneliness while staring out the bedroom window. He could hear the faint arguing between Mrs. and Mr. Holmes about something as well as the thundering footsteps of Mr. Holmes advancing towards the bedroom. John scurried to hide among the mess of sheets on the floor from Sherlock's bed and remained as still and quiet as possible. He knew the procedures towards hiding, get out sight and remain as motionless as possible. Not a single noise uttered from his small mouth. The man roamed into the room with Mrs. Holmes following in after him. He was unsure of what they were arguing about, he only heard Sherlock's name and a few other familiar words now and then but not enough to understand the point of this conversation. He let out a panicked squeak the sheets were lifted and he had dropped to the floor.

The reaction was violent as the woman screamed at the sudden sight of the rodent and the man thus began stomping down in attempts to kill John. John was frantic and scurried wildly in circles and random patterns before being chased from the room. All commotion followed after him as the man chased him through the estate but John knew its layout perfectly and avoided any possible dead ends he could be chased into. Mr. Holmes was relentless in his attempts and was only satisfied as he chased John right out of the house. He rushed across the yard, being yelled at from the house, disappearing into the bushes just outside of the property and waiting there.

The now nine year-old Sherlock had been greatly distressed and sent into a fit when he was told the news. He arrived home with a few stolen bones from the models in his biology class to show off to John and teach him of human anatomy when his mother sat him and told him of what happened. His father stood to the side as did Mycroft but with two different expressions. His father was still glowing in anger at the sight of the rodent in his home but Mycroft remained perfectly stoic. The moment he was told Sherlock rushed to the very doors John had been chased through, standing just outside the doors and calling for the hedgehog.

"John! John come here!" He called frantically, his eyes wide and becoming glossy with oncoming tears threatening to fall.

"For God's sake boy its a rodent!" Mr. Holmes snapped while standing at the door. "It is not a pet and it most certainly won't respond to some ridiculous name such as John."

"No! He will come back!" The boy protested, his voice cracking as he looked back out to the large yard. "John! John you can come back now! John, come on! John!"

"Sherlock just give up." Mycroft spoke quietly, hand placed on his shoulder. "He was a wild animal and is probably already trying to find his way home and after being scared off like that is it likely the hedgehog won't return."

"No! No John has to come back! He's my friend and friends don't abandon each other!" Sherlock protested and rushed halfway across the yard while calling for the hedgehog but there was no sight of him. John was gone and it sunk in finally. Sherlock spent the rest of the day in his room and he did nothing to try and hide his tears or sobs as he locked himself up. The next day Sherlock went silent, refusing to speak with anyone just as Mycroft had predicted long ago. Sherlock didn't eat and stayed up in his room of the library to waste time in the many books. He occupied himself mostly with experiments or learning things and the name John was never allowed to be uttered through the house.

It was after only two days did Sherlock seem to perk up and Mycroft knew exactly why. Sherlock was at his desk, arms folded and head laying on the desk. Eyes half-lidded and red as fresh tears rolled down his cheek. His window was opened and it was the only reason he was able to hear it. A familiar trill whistle which cried out into the night. Lifting his head, Sherlock looked out the window but it was too dark to really see anything. Grabbing a flashlight the little boy hurried outside and pointed the flashlight slowly across the yard.

"John?"

He got a familiar noise to affirm this and soon the light of his flashlight landed on a small hedgehog managing its way through the grass from the wildlife behind it.

"John!" Sherlock dropped the flashlight and rushed over, swooping up the small hedgehog and holding it close to him as it cooed and purred in contentment. Sherlock brought him back inside and up to his room, placing him gingerly on the second pillow before crawling into bed and falling asleep on the other pillow. John would then crawl over and nestle himself in the base of Sherlock's neck under his chin and sleep warmly and contently. Sherlock barely moved when he slept so the hedgehog never feared being crushed.

The next morning Sherlock carried John down to the dining hall and dropped the small hedgehog before his father demanding he apologize for chasing off his friend and also that he be allowed to keep it as a pet. His mother hid her small grin but his father begrudgingly allowed it and Sherlock took some toast with jam up to his room. John was added to the Holmes family as the manor pet, he followed Sherlock everywhere around the house like an overly attached puppy or sometimes got rides on his shoulders. The staff always welcomed the sight of the cute, curious hedgehog which would roam into different rooms of the estate with a tiny orange satchel.

John loved his life at the Holmes estate. He cherished Sherlock dearly and he was treated kindly throughout the manor by every individual. He would never trade this in for any other life but on many occasions John could be caught staring out a window almost listlessly. Sometimes he is seen staring at paintings of coasts but if acknowledged he ignores the painting completely. John loved his life here but his roots were calling to him and he began to miss the sea greatly. Being separated from his pelt and so much distance placed between his old skein for three years has began to put a toll on John's little body. He grew sluggish and sore, tired as he had no refreshing sea water to refresh him. He began to feel a case of insomnia, accidentally waking Sherlock at odds hours of the night with restless squirming and roaming along the bed. He would stop eating and it concerned Sherlock, who ate even less as a way to support his friend.

John would feel hot, too hot to bear, and suddenly have chills come over him. He needed to return to the sea. His health was diminishing due to the long time since he's been even in the sea waters. To feel waves crash against his body and the current take him away and under. John shivered and refused the piece of toast with blueberry jam being offered to him by the frowning Sherlock. John's body quaked with strong shivers and Sherlock took a step back with a frown.

"Mycroft!" The boy rushed from the room as John curled up into a ball, trembling and releasing pained whines. Soon enough Sherlock and Mycroft returned from the room and he ushered him hurriedly over to John. Mycroft frowned seeing the overly shivering hedgehog as it continued to whine in obvious discomfort and pain.

"I don't know what's wrong with him. He can't sleep as much and he won't eat anymore." Sherlock spoke he concerns and Mycroft frowned. He walked over and pressed his index and middle finger to John's still exposed chest to feel for a pulse. His heart beating wildly before calming down and then beating wildly once again. John felt a rush of heat and uncurled completely, pressing to the cool wood of the desk.

"He's certainly coming down with something." Mycroft replied while removing his fingers and John felt spasms hit his muscles. Sherlock watched, obviously terrified and worried beyond belief seeing John's body spasm and contort. John calmed down and nibbled on the toast but spat it back up moments later. Mrs. Holmes agreed to take John to the vet later that afternoon.

Sherlock paced as he waited. His mother would be returning in just moments with a hopefully diagnosed and treated John. When she arrived she carried the hedgehog cradled in the crook of her elbow but frowned at Sherlock's expectant stare.

"He couldn't diagnose John, none of them what is wrong with him. He had a vet on the examination table but his vitals were taken and he seemed perfectly healthy. They said his body is just deteriorating along with his health." She explained as Sherlock approached and very gingerly scooped John back into his hands and held the small creature close. She frowned even more as the boy stared down at John, the hedgehog looking up weakly with the same blue eyes.

"The vet could only recommend the poor thing be put down to be taken out of his misery."

"Put down!" Sherlock immediately spoke up and his mother frowned deeply before kneeling down to his level. "No, we can't! John can't die, we haven't gotten to do so much yet. He can't leave and we won't put him down." Sherlock was adamant on keeping John around as long as he could manage. His mother tried to ease him into the topic of euthanasia and had recruited Mycroft's help but neither could convince Sherlock otherwise and he simply stood by John's side as he slowly died.

At one point, it was quite clear John would not make it another day and Sherlock demanded they go back to Ireland and to Aunt Helena's estate where he first found Sherlock so he could put him back. His mother was a little hesitant but Mycroft volunteered to go with him and so after one silent, long and gruesome train ride did the two find themselves back in Ireland. Mycroft stayed away as Sherlock took John to the very of the backyard and sat down.

"You remember, don't you John?" The hedgehog was weak and could barely lift its head to look at where he was from his spot curled up on Sherlock's lap. "This is where I first found you and we became friends. You were being attacked by Smithers and I rescued you."

John remembered perfectly. The lonely boy that picked him up and became his friends. John remembered because even if he had cured the boy's loneliness, the boy had saved John a miserable life of forever looking for his sister and being alone. Even if he was now quivering and in pain because he had been away from the water for so long, the boy saved him.

"You were a great friend and I won't ever forget you John. No friend will eve be like you." Sherlock fought to keep his voice from shaking and from tears falling as he then moved to place John down just under the very bushes. He felt his heart shatter as the hedgehog became motionless in the soil. Its chest no longer heaving in attempts to breathe, nose wasn't twitching and those brilliant blue eyes were closed. Sherlock sat there all day until evening came by and Mycroft finally herded the crying boy back inside. John, with what little life left in him had managed to wake up the next day and find his way back to the sea. Finding his pet, his old skein, he dove into the water and was rushed with relief at the refreshing sensation. He swam far from the shore, memories of his time with Sherlock fresh in his mind as his health began to revitalize. He would never forget Sherlock Holmes and he would make sure to return to him one day again.

John remained in the sea for three years, he traveled to a different coast for two years after that and remained on land for a full year before again reuniting with Sherlock Holmes.


	2. Hamish

_HAMISH_

_ For six years John had not seen Sherlock again. In that time John remained at the beach for three years in pointless hope of finding his sister but no sight of her in all of those years. John lost hope for her and after a close call with some poachers he fled the beach and traveled away. He remained in that part of the sea, he swam to a different coast and to a different beach that tended to be more populated by humans. He wasn't as afraid of them anymore because of Sherlock. Two years he swam until finding this beach and he only stayed for a short time before abandoning his pelt, shedding his old skein and returning to land. He remained on his own for a full year. In the time he had learned to understood all humans, he knew their language and understood their customs. In his new skein many people welcomed him and rained affection on him while others cared not for his well-being. He had been a dog for that year, in that year he had traveled far from the beach but felt little anxiety towards his hidden pelt. He had been captured after six months and for three months had been forced into dog fights where he had been injured greatly in his left shoulder. It didn't effect his walking though but the injury had gotten him booted from the trainer's care and onto the streets where he remained a stray for the remaining three months until he caught a familiar scent. A stray dog in an alleyway was nothing special, Sherlock Holmes in the same alleyway at the time was something considered normal._

Sherlock Holmes was a troubled teen, only at the age of 15 and with a record back at NSY for vandalism, breaking in entry, trespassing, theft and disturbance of the peace. He got into fights with other teens and most often than not with people older than him. He was a vigilante with no real care or self-preservation. At this time he was running and ducking at the random loud gunshots which rang through the alleyway. Three guys chasing behind him, only one with a gun while the other two brandished a knife and brass knuckles. They were attempting to rob from his neighbour's estate for her many riches but he caught them and now they were trying to get him to shut up before he told the authorities which he had planned to do and was heading to now. Knocking over a bin as he passed it, he caught sight of something just behind the upcoming skip. A tail, furry and undoubtedly belonging to a stray mutt. Passing the skip, he took a single glance and saw a golden retriever with unnatural blue eyes. Only for a second did they make eye contact and it dropped the torn bag it held. Sherlock looked ahead once more and continued running, deleting the dog from his mind at the mind.

John recognized him immediately. How could he ever forget the human boy, well human teen now, that changed his life. Sherlock Holmes and he was running away from something. John had dropped the bag he had managed to get from the skip next to him and would have enjoyed a good meal of garbage once more if the familiar scent had not of pierced his senses and caused him to keep an eye out. He made eye contact with those same icey blue eyes and felt a sense of electricity spark through him. Sherlock then looked ahead and just like running down the alleyway. John tensed and lowered his head instinctively hearing the gunshot ring out through the alleyway and he then saw the three suspects rush past him after Sherlock. A surge of protectiveness sent John to stand tall with his head high before he raced after the group. His golden fur swishing in the wind behind him and ears flapping but he could careless. Sherlock was in trouble and that is all that mattered right now. He caught up to them the moment Sherlock found himself trapped by a rather tall fence, only making half way up before three caught up. The leader raised his gun and cocked the hammer but John acted quicker.

Sherlock looked back hearing a rather fierce and almost terrifying snarl and found the stray golden retriever had jumped, his teeth clamping down on the man's shoulder and knocking him to the ground. He cried out, gun falling from his hand and clattering to the pavement, reaching over to try and pry the dog from him but it held strong past all of the blood and clamped onto the flesh. He would need stitches if he didn't bleed out, the dog was dangerously close to hitting a main artery and going for his neck. The man with the knife dove forward to obviously stab the dog but it moved quickly and jumped from the bleed man and at the other. His jaw clamped around his wrist and forcing him to drop the knife before it let go and knocked him down. Sherlock dropped from the fence and walked over, picking up the gun and disarming it before the bleeding man could ever consider grabbing for it. The dog had the man on the ground, snarling with teeth-bared and dangerously close to the man's throat. It shot one look at the lackey with the brass knuckles and he ran as fast as he could from the menacing dog. Sherlock then took the mobile he swiped from Mycroft before heading out and dialed the police to inform the new constable Lestrade of the current criminals beyond the series of major thefts were in his custody and he should bring an ambulance. Once doing so he got the two sat up and prompted on the fence where they were hand-cuffed, a pair he swiped from the station last time he was there and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Sherlock then looked over to the golden retriever, sitting straight and keeping a close eye on the two criminals. Blood staining his chomps and teeth, Sherlock knew the pound would be called on the stray and it would undoubtedly be put down for biting a human being even if those people were not very good and had weapons pointed at another individual.

"You'll need to hide when Lestrade comes along." Sherlock stated while looking down at the dog. It simply looked up at him silently, licking its lips to clear blood away. "If not they'll call animal control and you'll most likely be put down for attacking people."

Sherlock was surprised when the dog looked back at the criminals in a defiant manner as if to tell him he could careless. He rolled his eyes at the stupid and diligent animal sitting at his side and waited impatiently for Lestrade to show. Finally hearing the sirens Sherlock was surprised when the dog rose and scampered off, managing to climb up to the skip and actually hide inside. He smirked before looking over seeing Lestrade. New to the force at the age of 29, a good cop with good sense of judgment which is how Sherlock has not been put in jail yet.

"Jesus what happened to them?" Lestrade asked, the ready paramedics following behind him and hurrying to their sides to look at the injuries.

"A stray dog with a good sense of justice is what happened Lestrade." Sherlock replied. "A near by stray saw the man with the gun and before he could shoot me had attacked both these individuals, that were both armed. It ran off hearing the sirens and there is a third one of these man still loose. Carl Grey, 5'10" with chestnut hair and blue eyes. He has a dragon tattoo running along his spine and is probably out hiding in Cardiff or is heading there now. He is only armed with brass knuckles so he should be easy enough to handle." Sherlock informed Lestrade quickly as the two men were released of the handcuffs and taken to the hospital.

"Alright, I'm trusting you on this one Sherlock. You should consider yourself lucky the stray dog had only attacked the men and not yourself, I would hate to be on the receiving end of this thing. I'll call animal control to keep an eye out for it, what breed was it?" Lestrade then asked and Sherlock glanced towards the skip for only a second.

"I didn't get a good enough look at the thing to know. I would look for a large dog with a violent temperament, perhaps escaped from an illegal dog-fighting place. I would try looking at Boris Shrew's ring in case he is missing any or last one not too long ago." Lestrade nodded and took this all in to write out later before leaving Sherlock but informing him that he would need to be brought in for a report and questioning tomorrow night. Sherlock waved him off and waited for them all to be gone. He looked pointedly at the skip and only moments later did the dog come out of hiding but remain back as if waiting to be called.

"A golden retriever although a little below the average height for one of your age. Judging by your size I would say malnourished and only five years, a stray for a couple of months judging by your coat." Sherlock walked towards the dog with no caution and the dog simply stood and watched him with the unnatural blue eyes. "A former dog fighter. Your aim is precise and instinctively for kills but you have some self-control by attacking where it mattered to incapacitate your attackers. Injury is what caused your owner to abandon you, caused in a fight with a larger dog so I would say a mastiff with a more unpredictable and violent style of fighting making it harder to defend against. A fighter so a rather vicious and nasty bite to your shoulder which caused the scarring from the ring. "

John remained quiet as Sherlock deduced his canine life up to this point. It was fascinating really how he could manage to do it. Extraordinary and he would have said something if he could speak in the human tongue as a dog but that is ill-advised and rather a difficult task. To speak in the human tongue while wearing a different species' skein.

"A fighter like yourself would be wasted as a stray, especially if caught by animal control or any neighbouring pounds and kettles." Sherlock stated while standing up and looking around before back down at it. "Never given a name, never been owned so always have been a stray and a fighter. Want to get back into the fight?"

John released an excited yip and bark, tail wagging behind him at the question and Sherlock's brow raised as a tiny smirk pulled at his lips. John hated to admit it but he had enjoyed the fighting, not the actual act of hurting another dog and holding it down by the throat or being attacked viciously by other animals but the adrenaline was a thrill. Selkies were never really known for violence, normally running and out-smarting attackers and predators but John got into the fight and now the drive of the fight would never leave him. He had been altered and changed by the humans but he didn't see it as a bad thing. It was not corruption. He adapted to the life he took away from the sea and was rather fond of it. Living on his own and with such instincts and senses of a canine, a predator in a sense.

"Alright, come along then Hamish." Sherlock slipped his hands in his pockets and began to walk off. John tilted his head with a crease in his brows, it would look as if he was frowning while watching Sherlock's back. He was quite fond of the name John but it seemed Sherlock would rather this canine be named Hamish. He could accept it, he was no longer a hedgehog and no longer able to be carried around on the boy's shoulders so naturally he would gain a new name with this new identity. So, without a sound of protest, Hamish followed after Sherlock and to his new life.

Mycroft had not been so welcoming of Hamish as he had of John. The dog's fur was matted and dirty and was in due of a trim. It smelt of rubbish and garbage bins and his very chomps were dirtied brown with dried blood. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were thankfully not home at the time or they would have had a heart attack seeing the stray walk into the house following behind Sherlock. Nose to floor to take in the scent of its new environment.

"This is Hamish, he had saved me from thugs and would make for a good assistant to my cases." Sherlock had stated seeming unperturbed by the canine's rather foul state and Mycroft had not missed the scar on its left shoulder. Fur from around it doing nothing to hide it. He stared into the bold human-like blue eyes with suspicion, no dog of that breed should have eyes like those but it seemed mostly harmless as it stared back at him unblinkingly and with a sense of familiarity. Hamish wouldn't let them know though.

"If you plan to keep the mutt then I suggest you get the maids to bathe it before Mummy and Father return home or they'll never let you keep it." Mycroft dismissed, leaving his brother in the entrance hall to look over his new dog with some scrutiny. Sherlock had not cared much for the dirt under its untrimmed claws or the clumps of matted fur but he knew it was true that his parents would never let him keep Hamish if they first see him in this condition and so they were off once more to the local dog groomers, Mr. Holmes' credit card in Sherlock's wallet. Well one of his three so really he wouldn't miss it. Hamish loved the groomers. The women there had fawned over him and gave him lots of treats for being such a good boy while they took care of him. He did not enjoy having his nails clipped down and trying to get the mats out of his fur was unpleasant, the staff was very cheerful and sympathetic and would coo and give him a nice scrub behind the ears whenever he whined in discomfort. Baths were rather enjoyable and he was commented to be one of the few they got that rather liked getting a bath and had no qualms to get sitting still. After that Sherlock even took the time to take him to the jointed veterinary clinic to have a few shots and looked over for his general health. He was marked as short for his age, the tartar on his teeth made it obvious he was five years and he was a little under weight so they suggested dog food meant for weight gain, something with more fat but to cut him off and onto proper dog food once he gained the appropriate weight to avoid him getting fat. They did blood work, had no worms or any real health problems and no sign of rabies so he was clean there. He was scheduled for his first immunization next month when they started and sent them on their way.

Sherlock's parents were not impressed even if Hamish looked more prestige and clean than before. He looked almost like a show dog with how well the groomers had done with him. His mother was concerned Sherlock, careless and irresponsible teenager Sherlock, could handle the responsibilities of a dog and a stray was so unpredictable. His father went into a long-winded rant about the disturbances pets made in a household and then entered the topic of the hedgehog John and how well that had turned out. His mother scolded the man for even uttering the name and Sherlock went completely void of emotion. His father then subdued and agreed he could keep Hamish, which was then followed to a trip to a dog store where he got a green colour, food bowls and toys and dog food. Sherlock had no qualms with price and simply used his father's credit card, even if the employee knew he was not his father she made no comments and rang it through.

Hamish find himself in Sherlock's room that night. It had been years and although the house was the same there had been obvious changes. Sherlock had a mess of newspaper clippings of crimes scattering his room, a second desk covered in beakers and test tubes with things that smelt funny or just foul to Hamish. He was laying at the foot of Sherlock's bed, paws covering his nose and eyes closed against the lamp still on. He cringed and fur bristled when hearing a sudden screeching of a violin and lifted his head to find Sherlock with a violin and scratching the bow against the strings in a violent manner. Hamish lied his head back down and forced his eyes closed to get some sleep. Eventually he managed to somehow drown out the noise of the violin and fall asleep. Hamish was startled from his sleep, falling off the bed ungracefully and hitting the floor with a thump before being up and fully alert. Head down with ears perked and taking in every scent surrounding him. Eyes scanning the room before discovering the source of what woke him. Sherlock now seated at his second desk but was currently cradling his hand, which was bleeding with pieces of glass in it, the rest of the glass on the floor and desk with the spilled liquid sizzling on the wooden surface but doing nothing else.

Hamish had hurried from the bedroom, awoke Mycroft and forced him back to Sherlock's room within minutes. The older Holmes brother managed to remove the glass and bandage up his hand but forced him to clean up his mess on his own and force him to go to bed even if he wasn't tired. Sherlock lied under the duvet and stared up at the ceiling, Hamish curled up next to his side and rested his head on Sherlock's ribcage. A pale hand falling onto his hand where he began to slowly and softly stroke the fur. The boy eventually fell asleep to this procedure and Hamish fell asleep moments later to the rise and fall of Sherlock's chest as his breathing evened out.

Hamish had never been to a police station, hew knew about them and what a police's purpose in human society was but he himself had never really interacted with them before. He walked close to Sherlock, the matching green leash wrapped around his pale wrist and leading to his coat pocket as he walked among the many people. Some had stopped and stared, muttering and whispering at the sight of the dog but none approached Sherlock on the matter. Hamish held his head high at the attention, if Sherlock was not bothered by it then he certainly wouldn't have a problem with it. Sherlock approached a desk and Hamish recognized the male seated behind it as the Lestrade fellow from before. He looked up at Sherlock before noticing Hamish and looking at him oddly. Hamish stared back unabashed and waited for him to speak. Lestrade looked back up at Sherlock.

"What's with the dog? Is it the stare you mentioned earlier because you said it was a large dog. By the way Mr. Shrew had not lost any dogs and in questioning right now for illegal dog fighting." Lestrade greeted in a way, writing something down quickly. Hamish sat next to Sherlock.

"Don't be ridiculous Lestrade. This is certainly not a stray, this is my dog Hamish. Had you not heard I got a dog?" Sherlock responded, hand resting on Hamish's head and lightly scratching behind one of his ears much like the groomers had done. Hamish simply pushed his head further into the pale hand to further the contact. Lestrade then looked at Hamish and seemed to nod as if confirming some sort of thought.

"Didn't think so, looks like a fine full breed. How did you get him in here?" Lestrade questioned as he stood from his desk and started to lead Sherlock away from the office area, Hamish right behind him.

"Don't be an idiot Lestrade, I walked in with him. No one stopped me." Sherlock replied as they entered a interrogation room for proper questioning and a statement from Sherlock. It seemed that once Sherlock proved Hamish was to be at his side at all times, Lestrade got use to the dog and was even giving him some affectionate attention. A dog person. Hamish simply preened at the attention people showered on him as Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance. On the way out more people had stopped the teen to see his dog, asking him mundane and boring questions about Hamish like his age and what he's like at home and all of that and some even calling him a stud and following it with mentioning their own female _pure bred_ dog. Sherlock shot down any offers to use his dog for breeding and Hamish was also against the idea. He doubts they would get the kind of "puppy" they were hoping for.

Hamish decided he rather liked the police station as a female officer cooed, crouching in front of him and ruffling his ears and speaking to him affectionately. Feeling a slight tug on his leash he understood it was time to go and so Sherlock and he left the station and were on there way home.

Sherlock got himself into a lot of trouble, only fifteen and he still had created a few enemies for himself. One being in the form of Tyler Durham, a senior at his high school with a few friends in dark places. Places where they had no qualms with attacking or mugging a mere fifteen year-old. Which is how on his walk back from the station Sherlock had gotten suspicious when Hamish started acting up. Not in a way like he was worried or suspicious. No, Hamish recognized the threat as he stood at the intersection. His eyes locked onto him and a growl starting to rumble in his throat. Sherlock looked down at his dog, that remained glued to where he stood with his eyes locked onto someone. Sherlock spotted him, hooded and hunched at the corner of the intersection and slowly moving to make his way down the street.

"Right, let's take a detour, shall we Hamish?" Sherlock looked down to the retriever. He growled before turning around and taking the lead. Sherlock didn't mind, it seemed like Hamish had a good grasp as to the problem. A person he recognized immediately as a threat without getting within twenty feet of the person and spotting them in a crowded street. Either he was very protective and overly suspicious or just has a very good sense of people and can pick out their intentions well. They walked through the crowded streets for some time, Sherlock would check in mirrors or any reflective surface for their mugger and he was still following them. Hamish never looked back but was tense and kept marching forward with purpose. Tail swishing behind him to try and make him seem care-free and approachable but Sherlock knew better add didn't let any civilians stop to admire the dog or shower him with attention and affection. They walked and walked and kept going. Hamish never breaking his concentration and soon leading them into a rather horrible looking neighbourhood.

In this area is when Hamish started the run, jerking the leash and causing Sherlock to run along if he did not want to lose the dog or choke Hamish. They ran and the mugger followed after them. He was thankfully wearing heavier clothes and could barely catch up to the two. Hamish continued leading, knowing the streets in this end of town far better than Sherlock. Jumping fences with ease and passing some backyards before finally ending up where they wanted to go. Sherlock jumped the fence and stopped seeing it. The yard was filled with kennels, all filled with snarling and barking dogs as they jumped at the chainlink or against the chain keeping them attached to a grounded metal post. Fighting dogs. Hamish walked up to the first pen to his right, nudging at the lock with his nose. Sherlock caught on quickly as to what he had in plan. Sherlock rushed to the far end and began unlatching them but not opening them, not yet.

The mugger hopped the fence and stopped seeing all of the pens but no Sherlock and his dog. He walked forward calmly but all dogs went wild, jumping at the pen doors and seeing them swing open with horror. Sherlock and Hamish standing safely behind the tall wooden fence on the other end of the yard. Hamish may be a rather quiet and almost friendly dog around Sherlock, he was truly vicious to threats. The two hurried from the scene and made it home. No point hanging around here and being part of the future crime scene.

Much like when John was around, Sherlock and Hamish grew incredibly close. Almost best friends. Sherlock had no problems with his only true companion and friend was an animal, Hamish understood what he said perfectly and was rather smart for a dog. He was also rather expressive which meant he could sort of bounce back ideas to Sherlock when the teen rambled. Hamish adamantly followed Sherlock everywhere, to school and on his investigations and family holidays. If Sherlock was there then there was no doubt Hamish was close at his heels. Everyone recognized him as Sherlock's, if anyone saw the dog with the scar on his left shoulder and blue eyes they knew it belonged to the Holmes' estate even if he wasn't wearing his collar. Hamish listened to Sherlock no matter what and yes he was an obedient dog when it came to the other residents and staff but it was different. He seemed to do it out of politeness or convenience rather that truly wishing to please them like he does with Sherlock. There is never fear of the dog getting enough energy even if Sherlock doesn't play with him, Hamish runs around after Sherlock to exhaust his energy.

Hamish had gown use to and rather tolerate to Sherlock's odd habits as Sherlock had grown use to Hamish's inability to ignore pleas of help. He proved to Sherlock he was rather talented when managing to climb up a tree and fetch a trapped kite, managing down safely and dropping it off at the crying boy's feet. Also the time he managed to save Sherlock while he was almost bleeding to death by somehow contacting 991 on his mobile. He fought any paramedic that would not permit the dog into the ambulance and even found the hospital on his own before out running staff and breaking into Sherlock's hospital room. How he got in none will know but all nurses know is they found Hamish curled up next to the treated patiently, head resting on his stomach and keeping a dutiful eye out for any possible threats.

Hamish was currently outside of the familiar school Sherlock attended. Laying in the shade of a tree and enjoying the wonderful weather. A soft breeze, it was late spring and nearing closer to the summer, Hamish's favourite season. Sherlock now 18 and soon to be graduating, it comes as a surprise to Hamish that Sherlock managed to not get expelled at this point considering how often he skipped and got into trouble on school property. His ears perked hearing a familiar noise, a very familiar car engine. Lifting his head from the grass Hamish watched in confusion as Lestrade and few others walked across the school ground and entered the school. Lestrade had spotted Hamish and sent him a frown before he disappeared in the school. Hamish got up assuming Sherlock would be dashing out in excitement over the prospect of being willingly consulted about a case and taken out of school for it. Hamish was beyond confused when they came out, Sherlock hand-cuffed and being escorted to the car. He rushed over to intervene.

Anyone knew not to mess with Hamish when angered, better yet it was best not to bother Sherlock in any form as Hamish would be the one making you pay for it. The golden retriever barked and growled and jumped around the police which had Sherlock and even went as far as grabbing to his uniform to pull at him and force him to release Sherlock. The officer sent him a rough kick causing him to yelp but not let go. The officer received a yell from Sherlock hearing the yelp and reprimanding look from Lestrade.

"He's just some dog." He defended himself but the glare sent to him from Sherlock over his clearly stated differently.

"Hamish is more than just a dog, he's far more intelligent than you are and has helped me solve cases none of you incompetent imbeciles could ever do." Sherlock stated as he pushed to the police car roughly. Hamish snarled now and seemed dangerously close to snapping at one of them. He didn't calm down in the least when Lestrade approached him and before Hamish could grasp control on the situation he had a muzzle on him and clipping a black leash to his collar.

"And just what are you doing?" Sherlock demanded at Lestrade as the officer began attempting to pull Hamish away.

"Well, taking him home if not then the kettle is obliged to take him because his owner is currently not there to care for him. Your pick." Lestrade replied and Sherlock went quiet as he was patted down for anything and then roughly shoved into the car. Lestrade had to use all of his weight to hold by the now enraged Hamish. The dog pulled and stood on his hind legs to try and break from the leash but no such luck. Lestrade pulled him to the second car, opening the back and managing to force him in before closing the door and climbing in.

Hamish was being utterly pathetic. Whining and howling in such a way it simply broke Lestrade's own toughened heart. He liked Hamish, the dog was Sherlock's friend and in some ways kept the teen in line. However this was not the case for his drug abuse. Hamish had been aware of the narcotics Sherlock used, he watched him abuse the substance but Hamish had no real grasp of what it was or how it could affect his friend. All Hamish knew was Sherlock was injecting himself with something from time to time and other times he wasn't. Hamish saw the other car with Sherlock and jumped to the window, crying and whining and scratching at the glass. It passed them and Sherlock looked to Hamish with a deep frown.

"Calm down boy, he'll be alright." Lestrade tried to reassure and Hamish quiet down, laying along the back seat and just laying there as if playing dead. His head perked up when approaching the Holmes estate. Hamish recognized his home, he loved his home just as much as before but right now he needed to be with Sherlock. He had to go to him. Hamish got up as the back door opened and hopped out when Lestrade grabbed his leash. He walked calmly and slowly at the man's side as he approached the front door and waited. Lestrade rang the doorbell and soon Mycroft answered. He raised a brow seeing Hamish in a muzzle and on a leash since it has been some time since he ever required the need for a leash. He followed Sherlock obediently and any officers knew the dog so never bothered the boy or Hamish to have to wear one.

"I assume something happened to Sherlock." Mycroft stated without reaching to claim the dog. He knew it would be pointless.

"He's been arrested for substance abuse and possession of narcotics." Lestrade stated, doing his best to keep himself calm and voice even in the presence of Sherlock's rather intimidating older brother. He expected a reaction of some sort but Mycroft simply nodded without his expression faltering or changing in the least. He acted rather indifference.

"I was wondering when it would happen. Well then, I guess I'll be taking Hamish." Mycroft held a hand for the leash and Hamish's muscles tensed in anticipation. He watched intently as Lestrade then nodded and moved to hand the leash over. The moment his grip slackened Hamish bolted. Mycroft again seem unsurprised as the dog rushed from the property, leash dangling and muzzle still over his mouth.

"Hamish! Stop! Heel!" Lestrade called but the dog refused to listen and was quickly out of sight.

"I wouldn't bother with Hamish Lestrade." Mycroft spoke up with a hint of a smirk on his lips. "He's probably only gone to look for Sherlock. If he doesn't show up then you should be concerned. Have a nice day." Mycroft thus closed the door as Lestrade looked in the direction of where Hamish had disappeared. If he did not find that dog Sherlock would surely find a way to escape from his prison and personally murder the constable. He hurried to the car and drove off in the same direction Hamish went.

Hamish was being careful. He only crossed roads when it was safe or he knew the car could stop in time to avoid hitting him. He ran through the crowded streets, he knew the way to the station and would get there before he was captured again by Lestrade. Many recognized the scarred golden retriever but all cleared his path seeing the muzzle. It was a natural reaction for humans to fear a dog in a muzzle, Hamish noticed this when once meeting a friendly lab in a muzzle but not many people approached him due to the accessory. Pushing past people and finding the station, he approached and jumped to press the handicap button to open the door automatically. He rushed inside and past the usual bustle of desk-positioned officers. Most recognized the dog and knew where he was going so left him be. The one guarding the holding cells actually let him go by and it took only minutes for Hamish to find which large cell door Sherlock was held behind. He barked and sat in front of the door.

"Hamish?" Sherlock's face came into view from the small barred window in the cell door and Hamish's tail wagged at the sight. "You certainly took your time."

Hamish in response let out a whine and rubbed his face with a paw twice. Sherlock smirked with a snort at the canine's response and then watched as Hamish lowered himself to the floor and began scratching at the muzzle while rolling on his back and squirming on the floor. He quirked a brow but chuckled as the dog managed to remove the muzzle and left it on the ground. It left the leash attached to his collar because there was nothing he could do about it. Hamish stayed there, planted in front of the cell door to keep Sherlock company. He would sometimes whine and scratch at the metal door but it never opened and other times Hamish would bark and howl. The officer guarding the cells would stop by and offer him a snack and give him a bowl of water. At one point later into the evening Lestrade stopped by and found the dog laying down curled up next to the door, muzzle abandoned on the floor. Hamish looked up at the constable with recognition but made no motions or movements. Lestrade didn't even consider moving the loyal dog.

Mycroft didn't show up until the next morning to bail out his little brother and collect Hamish before they were forced to call the kettle. Hamish's tail wagged as he watched Lestrade and the Detective Inspector approach, Lestrade with a set of keys. He stood up and yipped happily, backing away from the door as they unlocked it and opened it. Sherlock looked over from his cot to see Lestrade and Detective Inspector Erndall, he was due to retire in the next three years. Hamish poked his head past Lestrade's leg and rushed into the cell the moment eyes landed on Sherlock. The dog jumped and barked happily before licking Sherlock's face in glee. His jaw and neck mostly because he had been reprimanded for licking anything above that unless waking Sherlock up for school. Sherlock rose to his full height and Hamish did not jump up at him, again told not to. Sherlock grabbed the leash, gave a single look at the two officers and left without a word. Mycroft was waiting outside for the two and they all climbed into the black car. A wordless drive back home where Sherlock was yelled and lectured by his parents.

Hamish made sure to remain at Sherlock's side more often but unfortunately he was not permitted inside the school, thankfully a lot of shops had allowed the dog to come inside with Sherlock if not to prevent a scene and having to listen to his heartbreaking howls and whines for Sherlock. The boy had no problems with his strong attachment, it has never been an issue for him and he rather liked it. He would never find such loyalty in any human, that is for certain. The problem arose when Sherlock was being shipped off to University. Dorms did not permit pets and it was rather obvious Hamish would not stay behind at the Holmes' estate. Sherlock told him the day he had to leave that Hamish was to wait for him. Don't follow him but protect the house and the neighbourhood and to not leave with him. Wait.

So Hamish waited. He sat in Sherlock's room the day he left and waited by the window down in the foyer and study for his friend and master. Hamish did not change his schedule, not really. He ate and ran around the blocks in the afternoon to avoid getting restless. He was a high energy dog and required exercise, neither of the Holmes' parents would be willing to run around the yard or play with him. Mycroft was already gone by that point. Once living at home before leaving the next year to live on campus as it was more convenient. Hamish waited for six months and not once did Sherlock return or visit. Hamish was never bitter about this, he didn't really understand where Sherlock had went to and assumed it was something he would not be able to leave.

Hamish disappeared in April. He didn't run away, Hamish had no reason to as his distance from the sea was less bothersome this time. Hamish was taken. It was during his late run of the neighbourhood, just running but slowing to a stop seeing a green van stop a little ways ahead of him. It opened and three men exited the large vehicle. Hamish growled, instantly seeing them as a threat and smelling them as enemies with bad intentions. Hamish moved to run back home but it was too late. They got a ring around his neck and another dove in, removing his collar and getting a muzzle on him before they dragged him into the van. He was shipped off and once again put back into dog fights.

Hamish remained in the dog fights until mid-July. At this point he held many injuries, none that had scarred his skin like the one on his shoulder but it was quite obvious he has seen a good amount of challengers and all that had fallen. In Mid-July the men running these events were caught. Hamish was in the warehouse at the time, the warehouse was the central location where dogs were held in pens and the actual matches were held. Hamish was in his own pen among with the rest of the dogs and laying still. Others were pacing or howling or barking and snarling at other dogs they couldn't reach past the chain link. The large metal door was lifted and strangers began filing into the building. This onslaught of stranger sent dogs wild. Snarling and barking and jumping at the chain link in hopes of reaching the offenders and Hamish found himself among them in this activity. The men, the police officer and animal control, were being very careful when working to remove the animals from the pen and getting proper muzzles on them and leashed. He himself did not go quietly, struggling as best as he could and snapping at anything within his reach but unfortunately he had been muzzled, put into a choke collar and attached to a leash before forced to leave the building.

Lestrade was outside by the opened vans, all with ready travel crates to lock the dogs into. He had missing dog flyers, checking the dogs in case it was one of the many that were taken and forced into this life style. The owners would be contacted and they would decide the dog's fate from there. Lestrade frowned thinking of just how many of these dogs would have to be put down due to their irreversible behaviour problems caused by these heartless men. He would get a look at a dog, flick through the missing dogs flyer and check to see if it was there before having the man handling the dog put it away for transport to the kennel. He was surprised when a familiar dog was dragged out.

"Hamish?" The golden retriever snarled in response, human-like blue eyes staring back with a feral gleam they never had before. Coat trimmed but obvious marks from his past victorious blemishing the skin but never as prominent as the scarred tissue on his left shoulder. It was Hamish, without a doubt. The dog had supposedly ran away sometime in April and Sherlock had been absolutely devastated upon returning home for the summer and discovering this. The boy was rather disheartened by the dog's disappearance that he almost lost interest in solving cases. It was one of the reasons why Sherlock wasn't there with Lestrade now, he had helped them discover this place but would not face the animals himself. Lestrade had the dog put into a crate before sending a text to the young Holmes' to meet him at the local kennel for something important.

The dogs were all tagged with common black collars and a small slip of paper with their name on the pen doors at the kennel. Those that had names anyways. More than half of the dogs were not missing dogs from this area and with foul temperaments. Hamish was not different from the masses, snarling, howling and pacing in his new pen and taking in his new environment. Hamish was not thinking straight. He had the constant fighter instinct clouding his judgment and he was no better than the feral mutts which he fought for survival against. He was restless by the sudden intrusion of his home and now took in his new setting irritably. The muzzle was tight and the edges dug into his cheeks, the choke collar loosened but still irritating the skin around his neck. He paced and responded irritably and aggressively to any approaches and noise. He did not like this place, it smelt sterile and of other animals. Animals that were afraid, animals that were angry and willing to fight to their last breathes, sick animals and lost animals. Desperation and loneliness and he did not like it anymore than the move itself into this place.

Sherlock had been hesitant to go down to the kennel, he feared just what Lestrade wanted him for. Finding the officer waiting for him at the entrance, he wordlessly lead him to the back and to a pen. The paper attached to the chain link read 'Hamish' and indeed inside the pen was Hamish. He had new injuries, small scars and was growling at the two as he paced in his pen restlessly.

"He was among the many other dogs at that warehouse." Lestrade stated as Sherlock remained where he stood. "I'm sorry. If he doesn't show any improvement in his temperament in the next few days he will have to be put down."

"No, Hamish wouldn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it." Sherlock replied as he approached the pen. Hamish stopped moving and kept his eyes on Sherlock, head down with teeth bared and a low warning growl starting at the back of his throat.

"You kidding me? He nearly took poor Rhys' hand off on the site." Lestrade replied and as proof Sherlock stuck his own hand into the pen. "Are you crazy!"

"Hamish, it's okay boy." Sherlock spoke but the dog didn't respond as the growl worsened into a snarl. Sherlock ignored it and clicked his tongue three times softly. "Come here Hamish,"

Hamish felt his vision focus. The sense of threat gone as the urge to attack ebbed away. He heard three soft clicks which caused his ears to perk. No growl but head still down. Hamish felt the killer instinct die down and before him he saw Sherlock. His hair was a little curlier and longer but he recognized those piercing blue eyes any where. Sherlock crouching in front of his pen with his hand between the thin bars and calling him. That baritone voice calling his name and drawing him closer. Hamish hesitantly walked forward, fearing punishment for his poor behaviour and disappearance. Long fingers and a palm settled on his hand and scratched through his fur to his skin and Hamish immediately relaxed at the familiar touch.

Lestrade watched in amazement at Hamish's response. At first worried the dog would snap at Sherlock's hand but surprised and relieved when it walked over and allowed Sherlock to pet him and scratch at the crown of his head. Sherlock rose and opened the pen, crouching down once more as Hamish eagerly crashed into his friend's stomach to nuzzle against it. His tail wagging as Sherlock scratched under the collar before removing it all together. In a matter of ten minutes Hamish was released to Sherlock and his registration renewed.

"Just-how?" Lestrade questioned as Sherlock awaited for his ride to come by. He refused to walk Hamish without a collar or leash in fear of him being taken again. "He was feral and snapping at any but within minutes of you being around he is as calm and docile as ever."

"I told you Lestrade, he wouldn't hurt someone who doesn't deserve it. Hamish knows how to revert from his fighting instincts, this isn't the first time for him after all." Sherlock responded and Lestrade gave him a questioning raise of a brow and crossing his arms. Sherlock rolled his eyes, hand resting at the scruff of Hamish's neck and ruffling the fur absentmindedly.

"Remember all of those years ago when I mentioned a stray fighter dog had attacked those thieves? The dog was Hamish. He saved my life that day and was deemed as a useful companion so I decided to keep him. Got him cleaned up and all that and he looked as well-groomed as a show dog. Hamish was once a fighter dog but I took him in, he simply became a fighter dog again and I simply reminded him it is a thing of his past. Hamish is an intelligent creature Lestrade, he is not something mindlessly following instincts. Now, if you excuse me, I have a dog to properly feed." With that dismissal Sherlock entered the black car which had arrived. Hamish jumping in after him and the two were off once more.

The summer had been spent solving more cases and Hamish couldn't have been happier that his friend was back but he knew it would not last long. Sherlock was packing and informed Hamish he was leaving tomorrow evening and for him to wait here for him once again. Hamish watched his friend with sadness and sorrow. Sherlock would leave and Hamish would be alone again. On Sherlock's last day, Hamish decided. He would return to the sea. On that last day Hamish did something rather uncharacteristic to Sherlock, he was chasing a squirrel. The small creature chattered frantically as the golden retriever took chase after it in the park near the Holmes estate. Sherlock watched the dog oddly but then with fright and panic when he dove through the bush and disappeared into the forest. Sherlock followed after the dog and rushed into the forest blindly. Sherlock spent the next three hours calling for the dog and searching through the thick with a heavy heart. His friend had ran off and was not returning to his call. Hamish always returned when Sherlock called for him. He returned home late in the evening, disheveled and muddy with his clothes soiled and had immediately got a search party. He called Lestrade, explained the situation and had him send out men as well. Everyone involved searched for a solid two weeks, no sight of him. Broadening the search to neighbouring towns and cities of over a 32 mile radius but there was still no sightings of the golden retriever.

With forlorn Sherlock admitted defeat and had returned to University but kept all eyes on kennel reports and found dog reports in case it happens to be Hamish showing up once more. Hamish was never seen again.


	3. Watson

**Dr. Pyro: **I would absolutely be thrilled if you were willing to be my beta! I'm rather new at all of this though so unsure on how ti really works. I know the difference between a kettle and kennel but sometimes my mind likes to use the wrong word and I won't even notice :S

**GlassSoul:** Thank you so much! /SPOILERS/I hate to disappoint but he won't really be many other animals in the upcoming chapters/SPOILERS/ but I would be happy to take suggestions of different animals you would like to see or make a little spin-off drabble series of it. I tend to enjoy writing drabbles and I actually absolutely _adore_ Selkie!John right now.

**A.N: **Normally I would wait to post the next chapter until I've finished typing up the next chapter but I wanted to respond to some of the reviews as soon as possible simply because just hearing such wonderful things is always great, isn't it? I wasn't sure how people would take to this story so I was gonna wait to hear from others before really continuing it but it seems to be generally liked so I shall continue! ONWARD!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters unless created such as Kevin Watson Tate. If he is real then that is purely coincidence. Sherlock and John belong to their rightful author and I am merely a fan that had an inspired idea.

_WATSON_

_Hamish didn't like having to leave Sherlock. It was easier the first time when he was on the brink of death and his instincts of survival overpowered his sentiment. This time he was quite healthy, with only a tiny longing for the sea tugging at his heart. The vague memories of being among the crashing waves and following the strong currents had mostly been snubbed. He ran away, disguising his intentions under the pretense of chasing wild life as he had seen other dogs do. Hamish of course never really had the urge to hunt down smaller creatures much like other dogs, he lacked the hunter instinct canines had received from their ancestors. He could hear Sherlock's calling for him and hesitated, but continued on his run nonetheless. He traveled far to ensure not being caught and avoided populated areas. Using his heightened senses, he found the sea and his old pelt. His true skein. Abandoning the identity of Hamish, the Selkie returned to the watery depths and remained there for only a few more years._

The origin of the name Watson has no relation to Sherlock. In fact, Hamish had adapted the name from another human he met and who had an impact on his life. A young sailor boy, Kevin Watson Tate who was no older than 19 when Hamish first met him. He had been drifting lifelessly in the water in tattered clothing, his skin pale. Many would have assumed the boy was dead but Hamish could smell him, he was still very much alive.

It was a cold day in October. A vicious storm had disturbed the usual peaceful waters just two nights ago and Hamish could still feel the restlessness of the storm within the tides. He was enjoying the cold swim, nearing the shore line when he spotted it. The body was human, drifting along the surface of the water, bobbing with the small waves and was almost dragged under. Diving under and out of sight of possible spectators at the shore, Hamish approached the boy and emerged from the water. His dark hair was short but floating around his head, his flesh was pale and his lips were turning blue from the cold water. His own clothes, khaki pants and black shirt, were torn and mangled. A small gash was on his forehead, Hamish poked him with his nose voicing a whistling sound of confusion before jerking back. The boy gave no reaction. Hamish nudged him once more, but all it did was cause the body to float away. Hamish followed after and bit down gently onto his hand. Being very careful to avoid diving, he swam quickly towards the shore. Dragging the boy into the slippery sand, he hurriedly escaped back to the sea and watched the human from a distance.

Kevin awoke the next morning, finding himself laying on a beach and staring up into a blinding sun. He was confused, cold, and sick. With a deep groan he forced himself to sit up and immediately vomited into the sand next to him. He again forced his body to stand, stumbling as his vision blurred and spun around him as he fought the surge of dizziness and stood still. Looking around with hazel eyes, he turned to face the sea and squinted when he saw a flash of gray disappear below the water. He looked around to take in his his new setting once more and try to piece together where he was. Last he remembered was he was out sailing with his father before a storm hit. He remembered the storm rocking the ship so violently, that he had been thrown over-board. From there, he must have drifted ashore. Now all that flooded Kevin's thoughts was finding the closest town and hope that there had been reports of any found sailors or of his father's ship returning.

With one more glance at the open, endless sea, Kevin began his trek to the nearest town.

Hamish remained in the sea, watching the human male from a distance. He had been concerned when he had gotten sick, but had quickly hid below the water when he looked over to him. He remained below the surface for some time, swimming in a downward spiral until touching the bottom and causing a rise of sand before propelling himself back up. Emerging once more, he discovered that Kevin was disappearing among the foliage at the far reaches of the shoreline. He assumed it would be the last he saw of the boy and merrily continued swimming. He with no set destination, he swam in random patterns until spotting other humans and ships. Cruise-liners and people on the shore to enjoy the quiet calm tides after the storm. Hamish returned to that very beach the very next morning and was surprised to find the sailor human from before standing there with eyes sharp.

Kevin knew he had seen something. That something was a clue to where his father and boat may be. He had found a town, a little fishing community a little ways off from the beach but no one had heard of any lost sailors or found ships from the storm. He knew whatever it was that was out there could help him find his father, help him find the lost ship and return to his home. He kept his eyes locked onto the sea, glancing over and looking for any disturbances. His gaze snapped to a spot a little ways out. The water rippled and broke against the usual waves and tide, something had disturbed it. Kevin kept his eyes focused on the spot but after that he saw nothing else out of the ordinary.

Hamish as a Selkie was fairly shy, the only real human he would willingly approach was Sherlock but he doubted the human knew he was here in the sea. All Sherlock knew was Hamish, the loyal golden retriever who had run away and was never found. Hamish poked just his eyes past the water's surface and was surprised to find the sailor now wadding through the water and moving further from the shore and deeper into the water. He watched as the boy began to swim in the deep water before submerging. His head broke the surface some distance away and regained his breath before he swam further. Eventually he stopped and Hamish submerged, swimming further away before once again peeking out to spot the human. He was remaining in one spot, fearing to venture further, looking around in hopes of spotting Hamish.

"I know you're out there!" His voice echoed along the waves. "I know you helped me! Please, I need your help. You're all I have to go on!" He was pleading now and Hamish fought the urge to respond, he refused to heed to the human's call.

"I need your help finding my father! You need to understand, he's the only family I have left."

Hamish felt sympathy for the boy, for he could relate to his woes of lost family. His own sister was still lost to him in this world. Hamish slowly crept closer and closer to the boy as he remained in place. He was looking around, legs kicking to keep himself afloat and head whipping around to see if the creature would appear. Hamish circled the human's legs a few times before finally emerging. He released a trilling coo and Kevin spun around quickly to find the face of a seal only a foot away.

Kevin looked perplexed but Hamish remained bobbing in place as he human looked on in scrutiny. Kevin had no idea such a creature even lived in these parts of the globe, never having seen a wild seal before and especially one completely on his own. The creature's head tilted and it released a trilled noise following with various clicks that did not belong to a seal's vocabulary or language. So it wasn't a seal. He quickly scrolled through his mental index of creatures which resembled a seal. It was certainly not a sea lion, in fact the only thing Kevin could conclusively come up with were Selkies. The water-based creatures that took on the appearance of animals by wearing the animal's pelt but by default, appeared similar to seals or humans if removing said pelt.

"A Selkie, never thought I'd live to see the day where I'd see a real life Selkie." Kevin commented as he raised a hand and gingerly placed it on top of Hamish's head, experimentally moving along the smooth skin and getting a feel for it. Hamish moved forward and bit down onto his shirt before managing to swim upright and pull Kevin closer to shore. Once far enough, Hamish moved to grab the boy's hand, careful not to bite too hard, and began to swim. Kevin actually laughed and seemed to enjoy the trip as he was towed through the water and back towards the shore. Once in shallow enough water Hamish released his hand and began to swim back out to the depths.

"Wait! Wait don't go!" Kevin called and Hamish, against his better judgment, stopped and turned to face the boy. He went back into the water but stopped when it went up to his knees. "I need your help, please. My father, he's out there somewhere because of the storm a few nights ago. Please, I need to know if he's alright."

Hamish knew the dangers of traveling out too far. He knew what could happen if he revealed himself to too many humans but this boy had lost his father and Hamish just happened to miss the adrenaline of danger ever since leaving Sherlock. With a noise and few affirmative clicks, Hamish dove and swam from the shore. Kevin remained where he stood, watching the Selkie swim off towards the horizon.

For days Kevin ventured from the town to the local beach in hopes that the Selkie would be back with his father or at least with some news of his father's condition. He would go down early in the morning, after lunch and late in the evening every day. Like clockwork Kevin would take the path to the beach and sit in the sand for a full hour. Townsfolk had begun pestering him about it, the family who took him in were questioning his frequent visits but Kevin would not tell them of it. He wouldn't tell them of the Selkie out of fear of their reactions. He was unsure if the men would capture the creature or assume Kevin was crazy and have him excommunicated. After a full two weeks and no sight of the Selkie, Kevin finally caved. He confided in a son of one of the fishermen about the Selkie and his concerns. The boy offered one of his father's boats and the assistance of two other fishermen boys of the town. They left early in the morning, speaking not a word to any of their fathers and disappeared beyond the horizon.

Hamish was having no luck. He had swum far and had discovered many of the boats and ships that had sunk to the bottom, succumbing to storms and attacks of the past, but none showed any evidence of being the one which the human boy had come from and there had been no sign of other possible bodies. He had been gone for some time now and wondered if the boy had given up and carried on with life. But Hamish continued his search. He would dive deep below the water whenever seeing a ship or possible boats and even fishermen, they would know more than anyone that Hamish did not truly belong in these regions of waters. He would dive below to investigate ships and return to any nearby beach for rest. He had lost track of time, how many times he was out searching in hopes of finding a man he wouldn't recognize, and didn't have the faintest clue of where he could be. He searched the land near any wrecked ships, hoping that the man had drifted ashore, but no luck.

It was a misty day, skies bleak and and gray. It clashed along the horizon of the dark blue ocean. Hamish was swimming leisurely, but he froze when he heard a familiar voice call. Spinning around, he spotted a small fisherman's boat. It pushed against the waves and caused a current to trail behind it, there were a few figures along the deck but the one that stood out was the human boy from the shore. It drifted closer and closer and Hamish moved to avoid being hit. The human boy spotted him and ran along the side of the deck to keep his eyes set on him. Hamish chirped, whistled and clicked in friendly greeting of the human.

"I was worried something happen to you." The boy spoke with relief and a smile. Hamish responded with a reassuring trill that rolled in the back of his throat and clicked before splashing at the water with his front flippers.

Kevin was relieved after seeing the Selkie in prime health and no signs of injury or illness.

"Any luck?" Kevin asked as the other boys all rushed to the deck and peered down to marvel at the Selkie. It released a sad long coo and shook its head while looking down. Kevin frowned at this news, no sign of his father. Kevin was surprised the other boys on the ship suddenly tossed a net, capturing the Selkie. Hamish squealed and thrashed, frantic to escape the trap but it was no use and he stopped squirming the moment he was out of the water and hoisted up to the ship.

"What are you doing!" Kevin demanded while looking to the once trusted boys.

"Come now Kevin, you can't honestly not want to cash in this guy. A real life Selkie, I mean do you know there are government owned marine lands with these guys?" One responded and another patted his shoulder. "Think of how much they'd be willing to pay for a Selkie!"

Hamish howled the rest of the trip back and wailed through the evenings. The fishermen sons would yell abuse at him and some would throw something at him from the cage they kept him in below deck. Kevin went down often to comfort and apologize to the Selkie but he felt that none of the words did the proper job. Hamish did not fully blame the human, he had been around long enough to know when one had been deceived, he had seen it enough with Sherlock. He blamed himself for getting so close to the fisherman's boat, he should have known better.

As it turned out, the boys had contacted their fathers and the government as they were waiting back at the town when they got back. The representatives there had paid a gratuitous sum for the possession of the Selkie and Kevin watched as it was stored away in some large tank on a flatbed attached to a semi and taken away.

Hamish despised the place. It was just a regular type of marine land preserving aquatic life on display. Hamish had been put away with other seals, only one other was a Selkie and the rest were regular seals. They had that one tagged and Hamish noticed their food was odd, something strange had been added. He made it his goal to never eat it and so he stole from the other seals. As it turned out, this ingredient prevented the other Selkie from shedding its pelt and escaping disguised as a human. Hamish remained in captivity for months until Kevin appeared once more. Hamish saw him from where he was relaxing, walking near the large tank from above with one of the usual trainers and caretakers. He was wearing a wet suit and had a bucket of fish, small ones usually used for training to teach the animals tricks to entertain human audiences. The man was instructing Kevin before walking over and leaving him to do his work. Kevin entered the actual flat out area where the seals lounged. Most gave little acknowledgment, favoring the warm sun to bathe in but Hamish kept his eyes focused on him and the moment Kevin spotted him felt instant relief. Kevin approached him with a grin and knelt down in front of him.

"I was really scared something might have happened to you." Kevin spoke quietly to not attract attention to himself. "You need to keep a low profile, alright? I've got a job here and I'll get you out, but it will take some time. Do you think you can handle being here a little longer?"

Hamish gave him an affirmative chirp with a firm nod of his head, bringing a grin to the sailor's face as he petted his smooth head.

Kevin worked at the marine preservation for a full year, mostly assigned to work with the seals because of his ability to somehow tame the stubborn and obstinate seal. This seal was Hamish but they had given him the name 'Flash' due to his quick acceleration when diving into water and how much faster he was at swimming than the others in his habitat. For a full year the two pleased many audiences until finally, Kevin made his plan and put it into action. It was late, Kevin using his gained privileges as a head trainer to sneak into the habitat. He quietly guided Hamish out of the area, locking it up again and getting him down to the staff locker room where he was to shed off his pelt and become human. It was during this shift that things went wrong. One of the security guards had noticed the missing seal, their prized possession and had gone down to investigate. He spotted Kevin waiting outside the change rooms with a mysterious blonde man wearing the standard forest green shorts and gray polo with the park logo on the breast pocket. They made to run but Hamish began to panic, fearing his pelt was to be left behind. But Kevin had already turned back and snatched it from the changing room. He carried it under his arm, carefully folded, as the two escaped from the park. Alarms were blaring and they rang in Hamish's ears painfully, Kevin grabbed his hand and continued to pull him along. The moment they were off the property and heading for the closest shoreline, the park resorted to more severe measures. The two could hear the many barks of hounds and the distant fire of guns. Bullets barely missing them or hitting surrounding trees. As the two passed through all of this, Hamish once again felt thrilled at the rush of danger.

It was late when they finally reached the shore. The barking of the hounds was a distant and faint echo from far behind and the shots had long since gone. Kevin stood staring out at the sea as the now naked Hamish walked out until the water reached his knees. He turned and faced Kevin.

"I never got your name." Hamish stated in the his best human accent and Kevin almost seemed surprised by the clear sentence before smiling.

"Kevin Watson Tate." He tossed the pelt over and Hamish caught it gingerly, hugging it close to his now bare chest protectively. "What about you? What is your name?"

Hamish flashed him a playful grin as he began to pull the pelt over his shoulders. "John Hamish Watson."

Kevin laughed as the Selkie dove into the water, taking the form of a seal the moment he was submerged and swam off as fast as he possibly could before the staff and security guards could reach the shore and catch him once again. Kevin remained standing at the shore, watching as the gray form dove and swam along the surface of the water before he disappeared among the black inky horizon.

John Hamish Watson doesn't know what happened to Kevin after that and for many years he wondered what became of the orphan sailor. Had he been arrested and forced to continue working at that horrible repressive marine park? He would probably never know.

He decided that remaining in the sea was too dangerous and so took to the land only months after being freed. Keeping his pelt with him at all times, he managed to get himself enrolled into school and studied hard to get into medical school. He became a doctor but that sort of life lacked the adrenaline he desired and so he had joined the human military and became part of a war. He fought and lived off the dangerous thrill of surviving one more day and beating death once more. He had a few close calls but those made it all the more worthwhile. He helped injured soldiers and saw plenty of horrific injuries and at times, he questioned if humans were truly worth this form of protection. But he decided not all were monsters and most of those he considered comrades were rather good men, just stuck in a battle to protect those at home.

Everyday he fought off death and eventually his luck ran out. Shot in the same shoulder where he bore an injury from his days as Hamish. John was invalidated and sent back to London where he remained.

He had lost his purpose in both worlds. He had been away from the sea for so long he doubted it would welcome him anymore. Yet his only real purpose on the land had just been taken from him by a single, painful bullet. He had been lucky it hadn't struck his neck like the sniper had intended or he would have been dead. On some bad days John wished it had killed him, then he wouldn't have to live so listlessly. Each day just as bleak as the one before.

And then John met Sherlock Holmes.


	4. Mycroft

**GlassSoul- **I managed to update so quickly because I was already half way through the second chapter before even uploading the story. I had a system of always finishing the next chapter before uploading the one before that but because I got such good feedback I uploaded the third chapter sooner. I might go back to the old method though, really depends on how long people would be willing to wait for it.

I have leaned more towards platonic but it is bad that I listen to cute little love songs when writing these up. **P.S**: LKAJFLKHFOI Kitten!John would be adorable.

**Hikari Kaiya- **Just keep on lurking my friend.

**Alice The Walker**- But if John never left this story would go nowhere. Keep pulling at the reader's heartstrings and bring in sympathy points for Sherlock.

**Jnpg**- All excellent questions. The thing with being away from the sea thing is that John is growing accustomed to being away so he was not getting sick after being away for as long like the first time because he can withstand being away longer but there is still the emotional longing for returning to his natural home. As for keeping it canon, I'm teetering on the fence because in most cases with story ideas, I first think of it being incorporated into canon events but we'll find out once we cross that bridge, won't we?

**Shadowkitsune-sama**- Kevin was nice and I have thought of maybe at some point possibly, but very unlikely, have him make an odd appearance sometime later and again as for canon-wise I'm still debating it but I think I will end up sticking close to the plot, maybe. I am very indecisive.

**A.N**: I've got a beta now so my story will become even better! Lots of thanks to ! This also means I'll probably try and put a schedule on update speed so not to flood her with chapters. Maybe, I don't know. Latest chapter and again not as long but still a good length, or I like to believe so. Enjoy!

_MYCROFT_

Mycroft knew. Of course he knew, the army doctor was hardly subtle with the matter. It was so obvious that the older Holmes was rather disappointed in his brother for not knowing it at all, unless he did and wasn't letting anyone catch on about it to protect the man. However, it was more likely that John was the one protecting him and not the other way around. Mycroft scolded himself when he found out because really, it had been quite obvious even when Sherlock had found John the first time as a harmless hedgehog and then again as a golden retriever. Mycroft had grown concerned when he did learn and feared that the Selkie would once again return and sweep his brother away to the sea this time. Mycroft learned because the government knew, they knew more than they would let the actually species know. The government was slowly reaching out to these hidden and mythical creatures, having a few in their possession. Yes, testing and experiments were conducted but only for future medical purposes when they, hopefully, integrated these creatures into society. It was an ongoing project and surprisingly enough, Selkie was one of the hardest to come by due to their ability to walk as a human but Mycroft knew the signs and related the facts to the characteristics of both John and Hamish; Sherlock's beloved childhood pets.

John was aware of the fact that Mycroft knew what he was. The older Holmes would not let the doctor live with the illusion of having fooled him the moment he found out. Of course that had not been long after John had met Sherlock as a human being that Mycroft clued in and confronted the army doctor on the topic in their second encounter. It was another abandoned warehouse, rather spacious and greatly similar to the first time John met the older Holmes. Of course, Sherlock was too distracted at the time with his current case to take notice of his missing friend. Mycroft sneered thinking of it, his brother and this creature had become friends, and he did not like it. Mycroft was unsure of the creature's intentions, he had entered and left Sherlock's life repeatedly and he feared that, one day, when he leaves, he'll take his little brother with him and Sherlock Holmes will be lost to the world.

John acted as if nothing was wrong. Strolled towards the suit-clad man with confidence and curiosity as to what he wanted to speak with him about. He suspected it was about Sherlock and his present case as well as health, as the topics usually were. Mycroft fought the urge to glare or show any malice or suspicion least the Selkie catch on but he figured John would smell it. The released scents of suspicion, the scent that implied hidden intentions or the thoughts of something unpleasant. He had used this instinct much more as a golden retriever and now than he had as a hedgehog. Mycroft had spoken calmly, basic topic of conversations to try and lure John into a sense of security and comfort but he could tell the doctor was on edge. No matter how calm he may seem, his muscles were still tense in anticipation, he smelt danger and was not sure as to what the threat was. This comforted Mycroft in the least, John still recognized him as an ally from their childhood but also disappointed him because it proved John to be too trusting, even when it was obvious the threat was his own friend.

Mycroft irritated John. He was annoyed by the lingering sense of danger and had snapped at the man before turning to stomp off and leave. John had certainly gotten bolder in his years apart from the Holmes family. It was then Mycroft spoke, watching John's retreating form.

"I know."

The room was tense and John stopped abruptly but he dared not turn around and face Mycroft.

"I know what you are John and I must advise you take your next steps carefully." Mycroft threatened and so John slowly turned to look at the older Holmes brother. "Selkies usually don't live so far from the sea for so long, do they? Feel a little homesick John?"

John remained silent and stared at Mycroft with such intensity he almost felt intimidated. Little tests and studies had been successfully done by Selkies, no one know if they're violent and dangerous or avoid conflicts. Defensive and flee or aggressive. John remained perfectly still, those same blue eyes Mycroft has seen in different forms stare back at him from years in the past.

"Just what are you getting at Mycroft?" John finally spoke, voice even and seemingly oblivious but the hardened expression hadn't changed. John lifted his chin ever so slightly and Mycroft smirked, he was challenging him. _Prove it._

"It is really quite obvious, I am disappointed Sherlock hasn't figured it out yet. Although, I guess Sherlock has deleted those memories to save himself the trouble." John squared his shoulder, jaw clamped shut tightly and standing tense, fists clenched and then uncurling.

"A small defenseless hedgehog named John, died and left at the very bushes in our Aunt Helena's backyard but his body had disappeared when we visited her the following summer." Mycroft began approaching John and the Selkie fortunately remained still. "A brave and loyal golden retriever named Hamish. Supposedly got lost chasing a squirrel in the summer just a day before Sherlock had to return to his second year of University. Was late by two weeks in search of the pet but then again he always considered those two creatures his friend. Is it ringing any bells John?" Mycroft continued to smirk, stopping just in front of John and staring him down.

"Can't really say it does. Is there a reason you're telling me all of this Mycroft?" John replied, chin still held high and staring back at the man defiantly.

"Don't play coy with me, it doesn't suit you." Mycroft hissed and he noticed when John shifted back only an inch. He was getting defensive. Mycroft wasn't particularly worried at this point, if John proved to lash out, he had men hiding and awaiting his command. "The government knows more than they let you believe. We have facilities planted across the globe studying species and your kind. I merely speak now out of concern for my brother."

John against shifted to make more room between himself and Mycroft, brows furrowed and fists clenched once again. Blue eyes locked onto him intensely. Mycroft didn't let it bother him and remained unperturbed by the gaze.

"Do understand John, we have yet to truly study a Selkie and so your patterns and intentions with humans is a mystery. I am just concerned that the next time you disappear to the sea, Sherlock will be with you and gone forever." Mycroft admitted his fears and was unsure on how to react to the offended and affronted expression shot back at him by John. The other male's eyes widened and jaw slackened as his whole tense composure deflated.

"You suspect that I would drag him into the sea?" John seemed angry now as he voiced Mycroft's suspicions. "I am Sherlock's friend and always have been. I, nor would any other Selkie, drag a human be drowned in the sea. I can assure you right now Mycroft that I would never bring harm to that man nor would I ever let anything else come close to even be a threat to him." John snarled, fuming he turned around and began to march away.

"You've done that quite enough already, don't you think?" Mycroft called after and John froze. "Running off on him to return to the sea. He was devastated by your disappearances. Do it again and prepare to be hunted for the rest of your life and forced into captivity."

"I wouldn't even dream of it."

Of course Mycroft may have been reassured that John's intentions were nothing sinister he stilled worried. John has always been different, for obvious reasons, but how was Mycroft to know if all Selkies were like John and if not, then how many would be attracted to Sherlock because of his own Selkie companion. Mycroft had attempted to convince John to be a willing subject of various tests, all offers declined. Mycroft could have easily kidnapped him and forced him into one of these facilities but if John was gone for too long then Sherlock would certainly notice and demand to know of his friend's whereabouts. If the shock of him thus discovering what John truly was wasn't enough to make him speechless, then his younger brother would most certainly be furious with him for even considering conducting experiments on John. All Mycroft had ever gotten were reluctant interviews from the male Selkie, the only one who could speak the human tongue so fluently no one could suspect him of ever being anything else.

Mycroft learned the language. Not in the sense of being able to speak to a Selkie but he could recognize it and vaguely translate it judging by the created noises, pitch, and tones. They had recordings from wild Selkies they had been unable to capture. He also learned that a Selkie could speak or understand human language, they learn it naturally over years, but it seemed to be that the process takes years. John had proven to learn it quickly and that was undoubtedly credited towards the high levels of exposure to human culture he experienced. What he also learned from John was that the Selkies aging record was different. They didn't keep track of age or maturity by counting years like a human. They simply matured over time and aged, a Selkie that has grown black spots along its back is considered one of great maturity and age. John stated he had gained his black spots after being around for five years but his own sister, whom was only two years older than himself, had her spots when he was originally born. It differs.

Mycroft began growing impatient with John, who really ought to come clean to Sherlock about this. He was guilty to admit that he had purposely roped Sherlock into certain situations where John would _have_ to save him in hopes that he would out himself as a Selkie, but so far luck had always been on John's side and he had no need to abandon his human disguise and adopt his old skein. John would be able to save Sherlock to the best of his human abilities, so there had been no reason for John to become his true self or to use the pelt of another animal. That is, until the one scuffle Sherlock had and was thrown into the Thames where he nearly drowned if a seal had not of dove in and saved him. He regained consciousness on the bank of the river with John hovering over him dripping wet and doing his best to try and warm up Sherlock before he caught some cold. It was this one case that had attracted Mycroft's attention and was the reason why John found himself in the Diogenes Club, sitting in one of the back rooms with Mycroft.

"How is Sherlock recovering?" Mycroft questioned, pouring two glasses of Scotch. He glanced over at John seated in the overly plush leather chair across from where Mycroft would be sitting in.

"Fine, he's doing fine." John responded quickly, seeming distracted by something else. Mycroft raised a brow but walked over slowly and offered him a drink before being seated. "He's going a little stir crazy but what's new?" John joked before taking a sip of the drink. His face scrunched ever so slightly as the liquid burned.

"Not very fond of human alcohol?" Mycroft questioned with a smirk before taking a small sip of the drink.

"Can't say I'm very fond of it." John responded honestly, keeping the glass in his hand and turning it with eyes locked onto the liquid. Mycroft noticed his right foot was bouncing ever so slightly. He stashed the information away for now.

"You're going to have to tell him soon John." Mycroft firmly ordered, staring the shorter male down as John stared back stubbornly. "He is going to get himself committed one of these days. He was rambling to me the other day about a seal in the Thames. Said he grabbed his hand but when he woke up again you were there instead. He's going to try and find the seal and you know it." Mycroft explained and John nodded with a grave expression.

"If not then people will surely think him insane at this point." He added but John remained quiet, staring at the drink and foot bouncing even more. He looked a little pale and he was tense now.

"You seem far too restless for one supposedly at ease, John." Mycroft leaned back in his chair while taking another sip of his Scotch and John's eyes moved around the room. He frowned when spotting something and Mycroft looked to see him looking at one of the many paintings decorating the walls of the building. It was of a sandy beach, lighthouse, and an empty open field beyond the sand. Water crashed along some rocks below the lighthouse and waves caressed the sandy beaches. Realization struck Mycroft and he looked back at John sternly.

"Homesick are we?"

"You don't understand Mycroft." John spoke shakily, one hand trembling once more and he drank down the rest of the Scotch completely. "It is in my blood to live in the sea. Before meeting Sherlock I had the leisure to return to the sea from time to time but it's been years since I've gone back. I grow weak the longer I'm away, I get sick or worse… I could pass away."

Mycroft understood when he was told of this. He thought back to the weak and ill hedgehog known as John who supposedly died in those last moments before Sherlock put him down under the very bushes he where he had found him. He was away from the sea for too long when he was too young. Hamish was away from the sea even longer and ran off to return home. John Hamish Watson, Mycroft couldn't imagine how long it had been since he'd gone back to the sea. Stuck in a war zone in the middle of a desert, now constantly being dragged along on chases and to crime scenes at all hours of the day and taking care of the stubborn consultant detective. John truly was Sherlock's friend and truly cared for the human. Running himself close to death before finally leaving his side.

"If he knew of this, I am certain Sherlock would understand if you needed to take time away to return to the sea." Mycroft spoke with the least amount of empathy. John hardly seemed angry that Mycroft continued pushing his point to this extent.

"I can't tell him, not now, the timing is bad. He is recovering from almost drowning, I couldn't possibly leave him now, and not especially after just telling him I'm some creature from the sea. 'Hey Sherlock, guess what? I was your hedgehog John when you were a kid and your best friend Hamish the dog when you were a teen and I need to go to the coast before I die, alright bye'." John ranted sarcastically and Mycroft frowned, it was what John didn't say that Mycroft caught.

"You think he won't accept you?" Mycroft questioned for confirmation and John simply sunk into the chair. "You don't trust him to accept the true you after all this time. You think he'll be angry for keeping it from him and then be afraid of you because for all of those years you were something beyond normality. Afraid he'll think you a monster, a freak and delete you from his life."

John confirmed this questioning by slumping even further into the chair and looking simply weak and afraid.

"You give him little credit John. Sherlock can surprise even those who know him the most." Mycroft finished his drink and placed the glass down delicately on the small table next to his chair. "I'll inform Sherlock you were sent by me to Nottingham for three days to do a medical examination for me of one of my close colleagues. Go collect your pelt and be quick."

John nodded and wordlessly got up. He hurried for the door but stopped and faced Mycroft once again, relief flooding his blue eyes. "Thank you, Mycroft."

Mycroft simply waved him off while texting Sherlock's cellphone.

John's vacation was only two days, Mycroft had a few of his top scientists follow the doctor and spy him for observational studies and try to learn as much as they could without disturbing him or alerting him of their presence. They would have to try and calculate their own theories and hypothesizes based on what they viewed. Mycroft thought of other ways to convince John to allow these men to conduct basic and non-harmful tests and experiments on him. Mostly just tests, like rigorous physicals. Mycroft considered the prospect of this mysterious sister of John's and told his men to keep an eye out for any other Selkies John may interact with during his vacation.

Mycroft frowned at the few findings. Observations and reports all said the same. John transformed using his pelt and swam. He went out at least 25 miles before disappearing into the water for the rest of the day. He returned to the shore in the evening, reverted back to human, and simply remained in the sand with his feet in the water and watching the stars before returning to the water as a seal in the morning. He didn't swim out far and was usually in sight but made no known contact with any other and by afternoon had packed up and headed back home seeming filled with energy and in the best of moods. No sightings of a second Selkie. Mycroft knew he would have to speak with John once he got back, especially since Sherlock was very displeased with the situation and was growing quite annoying in his petulant ways. Mycroft couldn't wish for John to arrive sooner and appease his brother.

Upon John's return he was once again confronted with the offer for testing and once again John was not interested. Sherlock was out at the time, leaving Mycroft and John at the flat.

"I am not asking for you to allow them to inject you with anything or use any substance on you. Just a few tests." Mycroft spoke calmly and remained mostly in one place. "Think of them like physicals if anything else." He added and John heaved a sigh.

"I am not an object to be studied and observed Mycroft, I am a living being with feelings and I don't exactly appreciate being prodded and observed like some science project." John defended himself while clearing some of the clutter from the coffee table, mostly gardening magazines for Sherlock's newest case. "You wouldn't conduct experiments on any other human being."

"Yes but you are very different from a human being." My croft stated and John stared at him blankly for a moment. "You must understand we do this for the safety of our people. We must know all we can of these different species so we may be able to defend humans from any that have the intentions of doing so and so we may integrate these beings into society as safely as possible."

"Yes I know but I really doubt any knowledge on the Selkies will do you any good. For starters we perceive humans as a predator so we often avoid them and it is rare for a Selkie to even _want_ to be among humans." John spoke in exasperation and Mycroft could only lift an eyebrow in response to John's statement. "I'm one of the rare cases. We tend to prefer being in the sea and not on land."

"Yes and even if you are different, there are undoubtedly more that have disguised themselves as humans that could now use this form to defend themselves against a 'predator' take it out on fishermen and poachers." Mycroft countered. "As I understand your own family was separated because of poachers. If given the chance would you not bring harm onto those men?"

"Why would I? Only good that would do is put blood on my hands and get me locked away in one of your facilities in Ireland." John responded with a snort before making his way to the kitchen.

"I could help you find her." Mycroft blurted and John froze.

"Who?"

"Your sister." Mycroft rose to his feet from where he was seated in John's chair and faced him. "You're missing sister, I would be willing to offer all of my services available to find her. The only family you have left." Mycroft elaborated and John hung his head.

"I've been trying to find her for years. There has been no traces of her returning to any coast I have been to and if that's the case then she's most likely dead at this point." John stated quietly and Mycroft stiffened at this, he had hoped this would be a trump card of sorts against the orphan Selkie.

"What is her name? Perhaps she has found herself a body of water to keep herself replenished." Mycroft offered but John went quiet. There was a moment of silence between the two. "Did she have a name?"

"Harriet, her name was Harriet but I usually called her Harry. Everyone did."

There was a mutual understanding between the two. Mycroft would cover for John whenever he needed to return to the sea, being gone for three days at the most before returning to Sherlock rejuvenated and revitalized. Mycroft would continually pester John about tests and experiments, but would only be granted interviews and given firsthand knowledge of the Selkies as in instincts, common facts, and things about the usual lifestyle. Mycroft had services and researchers spread across the country in search of a woman who resembled John and went by Harriet or 'Harry' as a nickname.

Mycroft still pushed for John to tell Sherlock the truth, especially on those days when Sherlock looked in particular need of a friend. On those nights when he locked himself into his room and just seemed pathetic and lonely, he would find all of the old pictures of John and Hamish that he had locked away. Those particular nights Mycroft would not stop texting John and John would continue to tell him that it was bad timing until Mycroft was finally fed up with it and marched right into the flat.

"You are going to tell him John." Mycroft hissed as he stormed into the flat sitting room, Sherlock in his room and John sitting in his chair with a cup of tea. John immediately rose to his feet, putting down the cup and keeping a strong and confident pose. "You are going to tell him tonight."

"Mycroft, it is a 'danger night', do you really think now is the best of times?" John responded quietly, eyes moving to the closed bedroom door but Mycroft didn't care at this time.

"Now would be the opportune moment John. He needs that old friend he lost twice more than ever and I refuse to let him to continue in such despair. You will go in there and you will tell him the truth John." Mycroft ordered. Neither heard the bedroom door lock click and unlock or notice it open ever so slightly.

"I am not intimidated by you Mycroft and do know that you can't boss me around." John hissed his eyes narrowed and tense. Mycroft had no men nearby to step in if John got violent and they both knew it.

"I have been nothing but yielding to your every request and I have done you enough favors John. You are in no position to be disobedient." Mycroft sneered and John simply glared intensely. "If you don't do this one thing then you can consider yourself cut off from any of my offering services and locked away in a laboratory located in Germany."

"I would like to see you try." John snarled with such vehemence that Mycroft would have almost been frightened if he hadn't expected it and wasn't so angry with the infuriatingly stubborn Selkie.

"Either you tell him or I will and don't think for a second that the moment he takes it bad I will be there to help. If he even so much as utters a negative adjective at you then consider yourself Subject #0132. My patience has been exhausted due to your stubborn resistance."

"And what exactly is John supposed to tell me?" Both Mycroft and John looked over, all venom in their expressions dropped immediately as eyes locked onto Sherlock. He stood in his blue dressing gown, dark curls disheveled as if he had been sleeping. His bedroom door had been left open behind him, revealing the dark room. All three grew silent and John went pale as if something extremely terrible was happening and he couldn't stop it.

"John?" Sherlock looked to his friend quizzical and Mycroft smirked, a hidden smugness gleaming in his eyes.

"Yes, dear John, do share with Sherlock this vital information. I am sure he would be delighted to know something so personal about you." John growled with animosity, glaring darkly at the Holmes brother and cursing violently under his breath. John would never trust Mycroft with such a matter like this ever again.

"John." Sherlock spoke expectantly, arms crossed and brow raised. He couldn't deduce what John had to tell him, clearly it was something he was not comfortable sharing, but Mycroft wanted him to tell Sherlock. Mycroft looked pleased and beyond smug at the corner John had been backed into. "Go on, tell me what you must. I haven't got all night."

John's eyes flickered between the two Holmes' brothers before focusing purely on Sherlock. He was growing impatient and couldn't be able to deduce what it was. If he didn't know then John hoped maybe he could lie about it, but he doubted Mycroft would let him get away with that. He took a deep breath, released it, relaxed his once tense muscles, and attempted to calm himself down. Mycroft had him seeing red with the threats and commands. John locked his gaze onto those icy blue eyes and he prepared himself for the worse.


	5. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

**Greetings, my people, I bestow upon you a tidings of good news! **

I know it's been some time since anything good or even remotely interesting has happened in this fanfic, well, actually, nothing has happened here in a long time at all and for sometime it hasn't actually affected me. I'd still get emails about reviews, favourites or follows for this fanfic and it was only little by little so I never really noticed just how much of you where actually waiting on this story and just how many of you liked this story.

It was never pointed to me until I received a review in my email inbox from **Chrissy Truman**, and you can all thank her personally and shower her with gifts, a rather long and review which was different than most and it had triggered me to message her back and bring forth a whole new desire to continue finishing this story.

Before I do anything though I do believe I owe an explanation as to what happened and why I suddenly stopped. To be honest, at the time this event happened I did have the following chapter 5 'Sherlock' started along with a future mystery chapter I started to help with the writer's block that happened while writing the previously mentioned chapter. I had brought my laptop to my friend's place since we were going to have hangout that weekend and I had a few movies on my laptop that I didn't have a USB drive to save them on. And that is when it happened, my laptop was set up and we were getting comfortable when juice had accidentally been spilt onto my laptop. I'm not saying who it was that spilt it, only that the once full glass of juice had flooded my laptop through y keyboard and it refused to turn on after that. I had _hoped _that maybe I could take my laptop to our usual computer guy ad see if despite whatever damage was done to my laptop that files and data could still be saved because really I _needed _those chapters back to finish them. Those were my babies, my ideas, now gone.

Days went by and my dad still had never taken my laptop in and soon enough days turned into weeks and weeks into months and I got a new laptop and all of my ideas were trapped in that busted, old laptop now collecting dust in my parent's closet. So that is what happened to the story and most of my motivation for the story 'By Your Side'.

HOWEVER, I do plan on continuing it and updating it as much as possible in the following few months and hopefully during the summer when I have the free time. (summer jobs, ugh) so do not just give up on me yet.

I'm going to work on re-reading the story for inspiration and hopefully to revive any forgotten plot points I had in mind and in the mean time I might start writing little oneshots based on animals prompts sent my way by you guys. To kind of help me get back into the _feel _of this story again and help getting back into those particular characters. If you want any ways, to help pass the time. It wouldn't be uploaded to this fanfic but probably it's own little series. I think I saw a cat suggestion once but I may save that idea for the actual story sometime, if I decide to do a chapter around that character.

* * *

><p>AND NOW I SHALL REPLY TO SOME OF THE MANY REVIEWS I RECIEVED OVER TIME. (Because I really want to and I appreciate all of the responses!)<p>

**Kitsunelover101 **says:  
>"<em>I must say I'm completely and utterly in love with this story. It's a combination of two of my <em>_greatest and recent obsessions, selkies and Sherlock Holmes. I realize I might be getting my hopes up as it has been more almost a year since this story was updated, but I do hope it is updated soon. You have marvelous talent and I can't wait to see what you come up with next."_

Awww, thanks Hun. I never realized how much I loved this idea at first until I started and just Selkie!John is kind of one of my favourite Johns. Well, anything Supernatural!John is pretty much my favourite these days. And I mean, if you haven't give up hope then this must be some good news for you!

**Cartlin **says:

_*sigh* It was sooooo good, up until this chapter, when you started this long period of John blatantly lying to Sherlock, and having Mycroft find out. John being more open and honest with Mycroft than Sherlock undermines the entire relationship John and Sherlock supposedly had, and did have in the books._

Then there's the whole creepy, government aspect of the whole thing. Which was just creepy, and do you really think that Sherlock wouldn't destroy his brother and the entire country of England if anything ever happened to John?

I've been meaning to respond to those one the very moment I say it in my inbox. The truth of the matter is John didn't trust Mycroft, it would also be an insult to the character of Mycroft Holmes had he _not _find out on his own and with some knowledge of the topic. The point of the whole thing is John is afraid, he doesn't want to lose Sherlock and has been unwilling to tell him. How would you feel if you had two great friends that were animals and then many years later into your adulthood your flatmate and greatest friend of all times, which you have only ever known to be human, tells you they were once your only pets in your younger years? Sherlock would probably be thrilled and intrigued but John, he can't predict human behaviour like that. Only reason John is honest with Mycroft is because the older Holmes brother _already knows. _That's the point.

Creepy? I guess so, but then again, the government isn't exactly the nicest of people, are they? Oh, I have no doubt in my mind Sherlock would every resource he has at his disposal to find John if the doctor ever went missing and Mycroft would be the first person he'd go to. Mycroft knows it, but he uses those threats for John because he doesn't _fully _know it.

**Heartwing **says:

_NO NO NO NO YOU CAN NOT LEAVE IT LIKE THAT!  
>Please please please I need more!<br>Also John should get kidnapped and experimented on, cause I love John whump :) _

You too, huh? I mostly like John whump to see Sherlock panic and worry about his doctor, show his more human side, and to see John try and walk it off like the BAMF that he is. But as of right now, nothing has happened to John just yet. Do I hear a chance for Moriarty and Moran to make a future appearance? _Maybe. Maybe... __**cackles maniacally**_

**Silentshadow2828 **says:

_Aw you are cruel leaving it off like that XD I'm certain John is just being paranoid there's no way Sherlock will react badly... Right...? _

Oh I know I am, I am a very cruel individual. How will Sherlock react? Well, I think we can all kind of guess how that will go. I mean, this is Sherlock and John we're talking about. How else could it possibly go between the two?

* * *

><p>Hey guys, remember that poll that was started to determine if this story should be Johnlock or platonic?<p>

These are the results thus far:

Johnlock- 5

Platonic- 3

So send in more results because considering the umber of people following this story those are very small numbers! Also on those drabble/oneshot ideas, you can PM or place them in the comments along with any votes on Johnlock vs Platonic relationship for our two heroes. Alright?

, out!

(I totally forgot how much smaller things look on this site. Two whole pages is only this long? _Holy Anti-Christ on a Cracker!_)


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